"Yi and Nayu, set me up with the drum. Play the drum with simple bamboo slips, supporting my great ancestor. Tang and Sun played falsely, Sui Wo thought..." This strange sound of bells and drums always appears in my dreams, like the most distant call from ancient times. I vaguely remember that on the snow-capped mountains under the setting sun, my people knelt in the land of the gods and prayed for the blessings of the ancestors. But for some reason, in my mind, their eyes were full of despair. The Waan flowers looked extremely ferocious under the afterglow of the setting sun, as if heralding the end of the world.
Purpose: Everyone has his or her own spirit. Where should we go when we change our identity and lose our past?