It was March, and the water temperature was around 15 degrees Celsius—a cold sea. A dying Red Squirrelfish was struggling desperately on the seabed. I didn’t know if it had failed to find food, succumbed to the cold water, or simply lived out its natural life—but even as it ran out of strength, its beautiful red scales shone, as if embodying the very radiance of life. The sight of it desperately flapping its tiny fins until the very end was both resilient and deeply moving. It struck me anew that all living things must eventually pass away, and tears welled up in my eyes.