Bring You The Moon

During countless evenings pushing my infant son before he could sit upright, the night sky formed his entire universe from the stroller, with the moon as its brightest exclamation mark — those tiny waving hands and joyful babbling compelled me to repay him with the entire galaxy's tenderness. When successive Mid-Autumn cloudy days declared the sky's absence, a helium-filled "artificial moon" transformed from a private ritual into a public offering: the Bring You the Moon floating installation, initially just a father’s plan B for Kelinhamburg (since the real moon had no chance of appearing), became a communal truth the moment it ascended. As neighbors raised phones to capture the scene — the traditional Chinese symbol of reunion achieved collective nostalgia through an artificial sphere hanging over the rain-soaked city. Gilligan’s care ethics materialized in the night rain: hearing my son squeal at the "moon," I clearly witnessed how others’ yearnings for light resonated in chorus, manifesting as ripples of care extending from kinship care through embracing the other to responding to the world.