Many cities around the world set off fireworks to welcome the new year. As the countdown concludes, the dazzling sparks, the scent of gunpowder, and the echoing sounds pushing the limits of duration embody our anticipation for the continuation of time's axis; they have become a familiar routine. Yet, amidst these celebrations, there remain many in hidden corners and narrow crevices who gaze at the same illuminated sky. They can only gasp for breath between oxygen and gunsmoke, experiencing a fleeting trace of joy for survival amidst the ceaseless tremors.

Through the instantaneous and random nature of sound and light, this artwork captures the emotional contradiction between the jubilation of New Year's fireworks and the persisting flames of war. It ponders: amidst the cheering, can we still hear the low, distant wails of others?

Simultaneously, the installation is deliberately mounted at the average height of a Taiwanese soldier's rifle barrel in a standing shooting stance. The audience's participation symbolizes the helplessness and predicament of Taiwan as an island nation—caught within its geopolitical strategic position and the global supply-and-demand chain during the New Cold War—as if facing a ruthless execution from both sides. Furthermore, the spatial relationship between the viewer and the installation has morphed from the distant, blurred connection seen in the original version earlier this year, altered by the current geopolitical climate. The cramped space is gradually compressing that ever-expanding collective anxiety.