A personal meditation on the photographer's home island, Taiwan, shot between 2011 and 2017. Once dubbed Ilha Formosa, the beautiful island, Taiwan is now a chaotic urban sprawl that makes the nostalgic view seem ironic. Beneath its modern facades lies a body of folk religions deeply embedded in daily life: shrines are everywhere and rituals set the clock for people's lives. This somehow reflects the island's history of oppression, with people of different cultures coming and going, their memories obliterated or blending with others, the fears and desires of generations inscribed in folk belief. In 2011 the photographer returned to Taiwan after an unfulfilling career as a sound artist abroad and, feeling unfamiliar and alienated, wandered the corners of the city, mostly after nightfall, drawn by the spiritual intensity of people, things and landscapes, and by its suppression. Having learned first how to listen and then how to look, the photographer compares the two to a sonar and a spotlight, and, like a submarine, waits for the inner background noise to settle, to feel without intention and to dive within, beyond the collective consciousness of the Taiwanese, shooting only when a sound is heard from within. The essence of Taiwanese character may reside in this chaos and confusion.