I know

Yeah, that's what we call it, some place called crawling, knowing monkeys. When they were little, they followed the adults with electricity at night, and there would be a little hole on the ground, and they would climb out of that little hole at night and be full of dirt, watching them climb up, and then they would find a place to tear off their skins and become flying. I often catch them, sometimes I let them go, and I can't bear to eat them. Many years without eating this, once in a while, reminds of childhood, of early school, of walking on a tree-bearing dam, and of having accidentally found a little hole, but eventually let them go。