In a three panel soft water color, first we we close ups of people in a populated city by their close feet walking together, then we see a variety of people of different ages, genders, and races in face masks. Finally we see a green plant bursting through the cold concrete and Yao is writing in their notebook. Throughout these images is the following poem: " Every single one of us wants to scream, wants to dream, wants to reach that soft, whispering ache behind the iron-clad core and breathe — even if just for a second. The ache has no name."