This piece is a narrative score for performance, weaving the tale of an ancient Atayal
myth. Each minute is a vivid tableau, painting scenes from famine and desolation to
hunger and the hopeful passing of seeds. These seeds, metaphorically and literally,
chart the course for the Atayal people back to their homes. The composition brings to
life the inevitability of death, with bendable and piercing sounds illustrating the
struggle and resilience of human beings as they endeavor to alter the natural world. It’s
a testament to coexistence with the world, yet it also underscores our inherent drive
and resilience to effect change. In the end, the piece is suffused with warmth – the
warmth of the sun – symbolizing harmony and balance.

Story: In ancient times, there were two suns in the sky, with no moon. The two suns
alternately shone upon the earth, making it unbearably hot. The plants withered, and
the rivers ran dry. People struggled to adapt to this environment, suffering greatly and
trying various methods to change the situation.
Finally, one person came up with the idea that if one sun were shot down, perhaps day
and night could be distinguished, wouldn’t that be the best solution? So, three strong
young men were chosen, each carrying a baby, and they set out toward the valley
where the sun rises. Along the way, they scattered persimmon seeds to mark their path
home for the future. Due to the long journey, when they arrived, the original two young
men had already died of old age, and the three babies had grown up and inherited
their will to shoot down the sun. As the sun slowly rose, one of them shot an arrow at
it. The injured sun’s blood splattered in all directions, and one of the young men
unfortunately died from the burns at that moment. The injured sun became the present
moon, and the blood splattered in the sky became the present stars. The other sun fled
to the sky, becoming the present sun, and from then on, there were day and night.