“ At times the forces of yin and yang that govern nature fail, and day and darkness seem as one, turning the vast space into a fearful monochrome. Everywhere the fog, stock-still. Not even a cartload can be spotted. But the sound of a gong or drum carries far.
It is like the end of early rains, when the cold of latent spring takes hold: everywhere, vague, watery desert and darkness that flows and spreads. A thousand warjunks, swallowed between the river’s rocky steeps, while a single fishing boat boldly bobs on the wells.
The roiling, restless fog is like the chaos before a storm, swirling streaks resembling wintry clouds. Common souls meeting it fall dead. Great men observe it and despair. Are we returning to the primal state that preceded form itself – to undivided Heaven and Earth?â€Â