The lens is a window. Through it, Cheng En always thinks that he can frame the edges and corners of the world. It wasn't until she took her camera and suitcase into the depths of the mist in Liangshan, Sichuan, that she discovered that some light and shadow would eventually penetrate the viewfinder.
Cheng En, a 24-year-old shooting editor, was lifted out of the cocoon of urban life by the flames of the Torch Festival. When Lin Qingshui, a young man from the Yi ethnic group, held up a pine tree and said with a smile, "Gayola (welcome)," the bonfire was rubbing her shadow into the ripples of buckwheat wine. The "ethnic fruit material" required for the work gradually faded in the gloom of butter tea, and was replaced by the trembling stars on the strings of the Yueqin, and the dancing sparks in the sound of Bimo's chanting at the backyard barbecue.
Cheng En's camera began to chase the red soil raised by the "Bullring", capturing the arc of the felt passing by the Soma flowers. When the mobile hard disk is filled with 1Tb of Liangshan memory, the rhythm of the traffic password is no longer beating on the editing track. The grandmother who taught her how to identify tartary buckwheat and sweet buckwheat, and who cared for her when she was sick, and the young man who protected his camera through mudslides on a rainy night, eventually turned into the lantana flower pinned in her hair when she said goodbye - some encounters do not have to lead to love, just like the soma flower does not have to bloom into a rose.
Concept: The love nourished by different national cultures is equally profound