Liberty, the old but vibrant word, may sound very exciting at my age. I was fascinated by the views of the liberal school of thought, which led me to read a book called On Liberty. The book deals with grand theories, and you may have a completely new understanding when you read it again years later, but at least one of its views impresses me deeply: He cannot rightfully be compelled to do or forbear because it will be better for him to do so, because it will make him happier, because, in the opinions of others, to do so would be wise, or even right. For me, the value of this view is at least that it has become my creed as an individual.

As social animals, no one will be completely independent of their lives, and we are associated with others. However, not everyone follows the same creed. So, my views sometimes collide with reality. In fact, I am not so stubborn as a mule and mostly choose to escape or keep silent in face of such results. Things are not too bad as I'm not the only one has the idea, though not everyone shares the same idea as mine. The Truman Show and One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest relieved my emotions, and I earnestly wrote film reviews for the two films to identify my creed once again.
However, the reality is a problem that human beings cannot avoid. Eventually, Truman left the show and the chief run out of the madhouse, but they just went into another melting pot, and I am no exception. No matter how angry you are, what you have opposed remains the same. Maybe I am wrong. Some people say that On Liberty is actually to regulate the demarcation between individual and social public life from the individual level. My escapist mentality may be an excuse for me to insist on my creed. Man was born free, and everywhere we are in chains. Is the so-called liberty really there? Will what I believed really happen? From this moment, I have a deep doubt about all this.

Doubt means questioning things. I insinuate my current ambivalence with the staggered time-space relationship, being both realistic and illusory, both rebellious and escapist, both familiar and unfamiliar, both selfish and selfless. This mentality unconsciously gives this photo the effect of doubt. As a medium, photography breaks down the barriers between my inner world and the objective world to make them gradually connected. The object in front of me may be the creed that I was familiar with and sure about, and which is now stripped out for good research. As I switch back and forth between the identities of participants and bystanders, the ambivalence intensifies, and the things that have been ignored are infinitely magnified in front of me, like black holes, attracting me to touch and explore. However, this is a fruitless process, and everything you know has even become strange. Moreover, my doubt about the creed triggers a chain reaction, for instance, I begin to travel where I have been and the work I do seems to be cutting off my connection to the world. At the same time, my heart no longer belongs to me, and everything becomes doubtful: Why am I sure about it? What am I sure? Then why do I doubt about it? What am I doubting about?