An unknown radiation storm sweeps across the globe. Human civilization evaporates overnight, leaving behind empty cities and wildly overgrown mutant plants.
From the start, Chen Ji has only an old RV and a “Mobile Manor Space.”
Outside the RV lies a wasteland fraught with danger, but inside is a growing space filled with birdsong and flowers. He grows rice on the roof and keeps hens in the back.
He doesn't need a permanent home. His home is on wheels.
In search of the legendary “clean water” and “heirloom seeds” untouched by contamination, he drives his RV through New York's Times Square, now covered in vines, and past the Sahara Desert, now a sea.
The whole world is his backyard. He can stop wherever he likes.
“I'm not wandering. I'm patrolling my territory.”
When ruins become the coordinates of the journey, when loneliness becomes a poetic footnote, this work uses a minimalist combination of one person, one car and one dog to write an alternative wandering epic on the fault zone of civilization. The wheels run over the gravel and rubble, and the barking of dogs cuts through the silence and desolation. The protagonist asks the world in the most simple way - is true freedom hidden in the forgotten corner?