I see you as a mystery
Might be big, might be little
Your trace can be found on your path to the world
You might be the embodiment of archeological sites, sea of clouds, engraved poles, valve of air bump, the seasoned cocoon……
You leave your descants with precious knowledge
Regarding history, science and technology, sociology……
Why do you exist?
To shade or to explode? To communicate or to imprison?
You have gone through a lot
The wills from family are roaring from the red lacquered windows
Burdened with evil sins, dregs of feudalism are burnt to ashes
You were pulled down by history
But pushed to the stage again now
Invaluable and of importance
Dressed up by craftsmen and history...
Who are you exactly?
Fanggecu (a grid tool that is used for silkworms while spinning silk) resembles the windows in square shape. When silkworms are placed into the grid tool that is made of paper or plastic, the nature and individual life of silkworm are then going to be restricted and immersed. It is what has driven away the sense of poetry. Cocoons are scattered in order according to the grid.
Fanggecu, what is your response when freedom finds out your regularity?
The silk window
Enchanting and mysterious
Cast flickering candlelight.
Her beauty tarnishes the paper window
Secluded and silent.
You have to break through.
Through the hollow window.
Through the sealed cocoons.
Then the daybreak will come to you.
That is the sound leading to the heaven.