The gentle sea waves disintegrate into bubbles and foams on the blue skin of the sea. As the light haze thickens, everything faraway becomes vague and vaporous. I anticipate, in the deep, dark fog, that the distant waves will come surging over in just seconds. Can you continue surfing, once you have dived into the constantly overflowing liquid earth? Signs of the movement of people overlap and extend. The ordering of things and events in small scale are coupled with desire to form a new, narratable dimension. We can finally see that this is not a fragile, crackled island, but a sea of liquid soil that constantly overflows the city. Silent, boundless and shapeless. Self-contained yet existent. Self-recycling and never-ending. It has a kind of omnipresent aggressive drive grows from underneath the wave and subsequently penetrates through its surface to climb upwards in order to rejuvenate and refresh. I have no idea what its name is; perhaps it is a projection of all kinds of people and things. As the liquid flows, the complex activities of everyday living mark the range of visibility below the sea, and sail away into an endless journey. Suddenly, the noisy yet splendid world disappear at the cutting start point without leaving any trace, even though it remains where it was. Some day, it may open up again like flowers blossom.