Freeway at noon. Burning wind and molten asphalt, the buzz of insects.

Grass grows through the pavement. Clay dust is scattered all around, and on it are the prints of animals that no one has seen before. It is behind rare herbs that unprecedented creatures lurk and arrange a feast and a farce.

The smells of stubborn herbs spread in the smoky and bitter air: blackcurrant and mint leaves, the freshness of gardenia and figs, through which leathery, musky-cedar chords are barely noticeable. What kind of mysterious beasts are hiding in the tall grass?