In the Dulan Mountains, the field writing by the Pacific Ocean makes you yearn for innocence, and you learn to "look" at the fragility and uneasiness... In the most ordinary, subtle, and closest place to the weeds and soil, I finally saw the eyes of the red fox., that look suddenly appeared in the light and shadow of the "wood leak"... Leaving the city and going to a place where there are no houses, no sounds of cars, and even no human language, I want to let my bare arms directly bask in the hot sun, I want to let my feet Stepping on the soft, moist, earthy mud, I want my ears to hear the night birds...
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