I didn’t release your rabbit; I hugged it tightly and lay beside you. Rest assured, the rabbit is by your side, sharing the sunny weather with you. It’s strange that in France one often hears about being “released a rabbit” (Poser un lapin). What kind of rabbit? Can a rabbit be released? At first, no matter how hard I thought, I couldn’t understand and could only scratch my head. Only after my wife explained did I suddenly realize, roughly meaning that when making an appointment with someone, the other party fails to keep their word, doesn’t show up, or “stands you up.” French is both poetic and full of imaginative space. Releasing a rabbit is an action and behavior; this phrase constructs active and passive relationships and a sense of behavioral consciousness. But why release a “rabbit”? Is it because this gentle and amiable poultry frequently stands people up or breaks promises? It seems not so much. Just as we call this behavior “pigeon releasing” in Chinese, everyone in Taiwan knows the taste of having a pigeon released on them, just like the taste of having a rabbit released on you in Paris. If we look at language from the perspective of animal nature, pigeons often return automatically if released, and rabbits always return to their burrows; truly releasing them is not that easy. Folk traditions, beautiful colloquial phrases, or idioms have expressive qualities that outweigh realistic ones. It seems that metaphorical and allegorical language is closer to life, more empathetic, and transcendent. Releasing pigeons or rabbits sounds quite intimate, of course, but experiencing being released a pigeon or rabbit in life brings another flavor altogether. The aesthetic and gustatory beauty of language, between the French people’s rabbits and the Taiwanese people’s pigeons, allows us to imagine and savor its subtleties.