He was a man possessed by a quiet obsession. He tinkered with forms pulled from his own imagination: intricate root carvings that echoed ancient Chinese traditions, elegant screens that told stories in silhouette, and furniture that demanded not just function, but a soul. Each piece was a universe unto itself, consuming three, sometimes five years of his life. They were his companions, his unfinished sentences, his legacy crafted in oak and mahogany.

Yet, this legacy had no currency in the outside world. It was a one-sided conversation. Each new technique demanded new tools, new materials. He was a relentless perfectionist, discarding anything that failed to meet the silent, stringent， he held in his mind. The financial was nonexistent; the investment was a bottomless pit of passion and solitude.

Two decades slipped through his fingers like fine sand. It was a state of profound self-absorption, a bubble where the only thing that mattered was the next curve, the next join. The voices of family and friends, pleading with him to stop, to find a “real” job, to accept that he “wasn’t cut out for this,” became a distant murmur, a background hum to the central symphony of his work. Their words, though meant with love, felt like verdicts on a life misspent.

There were moments, in the deep silence of the night, when he truly considered surrender. The weight of the years would press down on him, and the thought of a simpler, more conventional path would shimmer like a mirage. He would feel the conviction to change course, to abandon this foolish dream. But the dawn always brought him back to the workbench. Was it a stubborn, lingering hope? Or was it simply that his hands, now shaped by two decades of tools, knew no other language? And so, day after day, he continued, a Sisyphus in a workshop, pushing his beautiful, unsellable boulder up a hill.

Now, in his fifties, the frantic energy of youth has mellowed into a somber acceptance. The sharp edges of his ambition have been sanded smooth by time. The desperate need for external validation has softened. He has become open-minded, not through triumph, but through exhaustion and a hard-won peace. The question is no longer “Will this make me successful?” but rather “Did my life have meaning?”

The answer, he has decided, lies not in profit, but in witness. These creations must see the light, must be offered to the world to find their own kindred spirits, their own sympathetic audience. They are pieces of his life, and to leave them hidden would be the true failure.

And so, in 2025, he opens a window to his world: the BIDOOL jewelry online store. It is not merely a shop; it is a gallery, an archive, a final act of faith. One by one, he will gather his life’s work. He will photograph them in the gentle light they deserve, each image a testament to a year passed, a hope cherished, a doubt overcome. It is an invitation, not to buy, but to see. To understand. To recognize the profound, often futile, but ultimately beautiful weight of a passion pursued against all odds.