The ancient Silk Road began when Emperor Wu of Han sought superior warhorses from the Western Regions to fight against the Xiongnu. He dispatched Zhang Qian on a diplomatic mission to the West, and through this journey, the world unfolded. By the time Zhang Qian returned to his homeland, thirteen years had passed, and out of a delegation of more than one hundred people, only Zhang Qian and his guide returned alive.

Today, the tools of travel are more convenient than ever before, yet the world has not become a completely open place. Amid this vast uncertainty, how do we locate ourselves? This led me to imagine the travelers a thousand years ago—crossing mountains beyond mountains, deserts beyond deserts, seeing mirages along the journey, visions of moments in life from which there is no return.

As the origin and one of the primary vehicles of the Silk Road, the horse carried bodies, goods, and imperial ambitions. Once an ordinary part of daily life, it has now become something distant and unfamiliar. Along the path of exploring the world, there was once the thunder of galloping horses. I find myself imagining that distant moment.