“Our minds are finite, and yet even in these circumstances of finitude we are surrounded by possibilities that are infinite, and the purpose of life is to grasp as much as we can out of that infinitude.”
-- Alfred North Whitehead (1861~1947)

In a quiet morning a few years ago, a call from my family informed me that grandma had passed away. Back then, I was away from my family and lived alone in the north to study. When I rushed back home, all I saw was her lying peacefully in a transparent frige; her body looked smaller a bit. Since then, time stopped to her forever. I could still remember those moments I alway sticked around her when i was little. Yet, all she left behind in my memory was her benevolent face with smile.

When facing the death of their loved ones, people can tell clearly the difference between the objective time and the subjective time.The private clock stopped short at the moment of death. But still the sun rises and sets. Birth and aging keep coming and going like seasons change. The earth never stops turning.

Life comes to an end where it starts. It moves forward every moment. This work is like a fable; it also resembles results of certain controlled scientific experiments. In the eternally flowing time river, we are only transitory droplets. Compared to the immensity of the universe, humans’ perception of it has been limited to personal experiences, restricted by one’s life length and the light speed. Yet, due to the existence life limits, humans find the cause to persue eternalty with hopes.

We make memories or experiences all our life. It is a cycling process, in which similar situations repeat and evolve themselves over and over again. Nevertheless, the results turn out to be different every time. Therefore, imagination has become our resort to move and stride forward. Through imagination, time, life, death, and memories all become poetic sceneries without boundaries.