The structure appears to be suspended above the pier of Temple Lake Island, with mist rising from below like a breath of life.

An indescribable, mysterious atmosphere permeates the space.

People gather from all directions, as space itself seems to converge—amid peach blossoms red, plum blossoms white, and rapeseed flowers yellow.

Each blossom resides within each person’s heart, within their gaze.

Images of nothingness, questions of mystery and origin, the dissolution of spatial boundaries—levitation?

Can mind and space achieve a mutual trust, wherein the sacred realm may open its gates, and the divine, as light, enters without breaching the walls?

The misty, distant vista evokes a state of deep contemplation—a fantasy detached from reality. What lies ahead? Nature offers no precise answer.

It is not only direction that is lost—there is also the light of dawn.

The power of nature. The power of nature. Piers and bays offer little hope.

Only when the sea opens its chest is it time to be free. The waves wash away their force.