困
We escape by traveling, but we cannot escape ourselves
逃離的牢籠也許在皮膚之下，
光線切割陰影，露出靈魂中被困的輪廓。
身體裸露，如詩一般的脆弱與力量交錯，
每一條線條都是呼吸，每一片光斑都是皺紋。
我們以旅途為藉口，逃離地圖上的拘束；
卻終究無處可逃，因為我們攜帶著記憶與夜晚。
攝影是窗，也是一面鏡子：
看見他者，也看見自己看見自己的眼光。
在這黑白的世界裡，裸體與陰影共舞。
Escape’s cage may lie beneath the skin,
Light cuts through shadow, revealing contours trapped in the soul.
The body unclothed—fragile and powerful as poetry intertwined,
Each line its breath, each patch of light a wrinkle.
We use travel as an excuse to break free of maps’ constraints;
Yet inescapable are the memories, the night we carry within.
Photography becomes window, also mirror:
Seeing others, and seeing ourselves see ourselves.
In this black & white realm, nudity dances with shadow.
囚籠不只是鐵條，也許是看不見的網，
束縛你腳的，是習慣，是恐懼，是白天的影與夜裡的回音。
你呼吸每一寸空氣，卻聽見自己的心臟在敲擊籠子的節奏；
你向外望，想象光線斷裂，陰影消散，卻總被拉回自己的軀殼。
旅行是一種逃離，但你帶著內心的囚籠同行；
鏡頭捕捉裸露的身形與光影交錯，是想逃，是想看見自我。
在黑白中，身體成為詩行，陰影與線條構築囚徒的靈魂。
A cage is more than bars—it’s mesh of habit, fear, echoing night.
It confines not just the body, but the pulse of self, the pattern of breath.
You inhale every inch of air yet feel your heart beating in rhythm to iron.
You gaze outward, dream light will shatter shadows—but the shell pulls you back.
We travel to flee, yet carry our cages within;
The lens reveals the nude, the play of light & shadow—an attempt to escape, to see.
In black and white, the body becomes verse—shadows and lines sculpt the soul of the captive,
You may never flee yourself—but let art warp the prison, let your heart rest in light.
A cage is an enclosure often made of mesh, bars, or wires, used to confine, contain or protect something or someone. A cage can serve many purposes, including keeping an animal or person in captivity, capturing an animal or person, and displaying an animal at a zoo.