It has been raining for two days and two nights. In a world excessively washed by rain, everything is muddy and chaotic. Nature, taking advantage of the abundant water, with the momentum of rapid renewal, pushes out tender green tips from near where fruits have just fallen. Within three or two nights, they grow into robust leaves. Meanwhile, the ground is covered in patches of mottled yellow or dazzling bright yellow, decorating it. These are medals bestowed upon the Earth, falling from the sky. Rain announces the seasonal transition between old and new; whether one obeys or not, this is a law. This law requires no customization in its natural cycle, has no leader, and is purely rhythm. Only rhythm makes one obey; all things only obey rhythm. Going with the flow is rhythm; emotion is the landscape of rhythm, its starting point, the source of inspiration. Perceiving the existence of emotion, fishing inspiration out of the water, it will joyfully leap out for you—it belongs only to you. What is traveling for? Someone asks. Traveling is to return home! Someone answers. Clearly, traveling and returning home have become synonyms. Direction is a meaningless word. Where am I standing? I am walking on the road of travel. Where am I standing? I am embracing my warm home. (This text is a writing of the artistic conception "Wind Mountain Cloud Water - Reflection of the Mirror")