大浪襲來的五分鐘
每當氣象局一報導颱風生成，攝影師就收拾行李，在海上警報發布而停船之前渡洋，準備在颱風天等待大浪。麻煩的是，坐在民宿的電視機前方，攝影師其實得不到任何實用的資訊，新聞裡的說明圖不會標示出綠島，只能看著台東的氣候數據想像綠島的風雨。
夏秋之際，攝影師重複著這樣的行程，時常冒著生命危險，佇立於五十年前新生攝影師拍下大浪襲來的位置。數年來對位的經驗，這張照片的構圖已經烙印於攝影師的腦袋裡，近景、中景、遠景的石頭都對到準確的位置了，海浪卻還離得遠遠的、咾咕石坪依然光禿一片。攝影師扶著腳架與相機，等待再等待，卻一直等不到浪湧上岸的時刻。
起初攝影師還挺興奮，當作闖關遊戲，毫不氣餒地等待機會、準備再次挑戰。日子久了、錢包空了，想不通自己是為了什麼。
颱風離開的夜晚滿天星辰，攝影師抽著菸，告訴她想放棄的念頭。沒想到，竟把想重拍的意念轉移了，轉移到總有一天會成為耆老的她。
攝影師總戲稱她是未來的在地耆老。
未來的在地耆老是土生土長的綠島人，她是國家人權博物館的工作人員。
她見證那一片廢墟重新組織成為博物館，陪伴無數再次回到島上的老新生，以及無數首次登島的後來的人。不管是園區裡的建築與歷史、前輩的物件和故事、島上的風俗與植被，她說故事的時候，眼睛總散發炙熱的光芒，就好像在講她家的故事般地寶貝與珍惜。
她是本島藝術家在綠島創作時的重要協作。
當藝術家在口訪時遇到聽不懂的方言，未來耆老替大家解惑；當藝術家想嘗試製作口述中提及的林投笛，她帶著藝術家去林投樹旁，從選葉子粗細、去除尖銳細刺，到製作笛子和練習發音；當攝影師登島的颱風天，她帶著魚粽去岸邊探望，要他注意安全。
寒冬的綠島天氣非常惡劣，海風夾帶鹹度極為粘膩。她住在島的西邊，每天要騎過整個北海岸。但不只如此，經過公館村、機車駛入東北角的海岸邊，海水會扎實地跟著風打上陸地。這天，東北季風特別地強勁，她在路上被海水打了一身濕，當她好不容易抵達人權博物館、把摩托車安置在遮雨棚下，她卻走了出去，走向了咾咕石坪。
她好奇這樣的強風，浪是否打得比颱風的浪高，會不會更像新生攝影師照片裡的浪。
她踏上溼滑咾咕石，往前走了幾步，風太大，她小心走著。她拿出手機尋找舊照片，一邊對位著石頭的相對位置，同時，腳掌試探著，該踩在哪顆石頭上，才能更靠近新生攝影師的眼光。
傾刻之間，不到五分鐘，海水突然急速漲潮、大浪襲來。
未來的在地耆老拿起手機——喀嚓，拍下了很像颱風天的大浪瞬間。
Five Minutes when the Big Waves Stroke
To reshoot this photo, a photographer from the mainland has traveled to Green Island several times.
Whenever the Central Weather Bureau reports the formation of a typhoon, the photographer packs up and crosses the ocean before the ship stops due to the sea warning, preparing to wait for the big waves on the typhoon day. The trouble is that sitting in front of the TV in the inn, the photographer cannot get any practical information. The explanatory map in the news does not indicate Green Island. He can only imagine the weather on Green Island by looking at the climate data of Taitung.
In between summer and autumn, the photographer repeats this journey, often risking his life, standing at the location where the freshman photographer took a photo of the big waves fifty years ago. After years of experience in positioning, the composition of this photo has been imprinted in the photographer's mind. The rocks in the foreground, mid-ground, and background are accurately located, but the waves are still far away, and the bare coral coast remains the same. The photographer holds the tripod and camera, waiting and waiting, but still cannot wait for the moment when the waves surge ashore.
At first, the photographer was still excited, treating it as a game, waiting for the opportunity without losing heart and preparing to challenge again. After a long time, the wallet was empty, and he couldn't figure out what he was doing this for.
On the night when the typhoon left, the photographer smoked a cigarette and told her that he wanted to give up. Unexpectedly, he transferred the idea of reshooting to herself, who would one day become an elder.
The photographer often jokingly calls her the future local elder.
The future local elder is a native Green Islander and a staff member of the National Human Rights Museum.
She witnessed the ruins being reorganized into a museum, accompanied countless old freshmen who returned to the island again, and countless first-time visitors. Whether it is the buildings and history in the park, the objects and stories of the seniors, the customs and vegetation on the island, when she tells the story, her eyes always emit a hot light, as if she is telling her own family's story, precious and cherished.
She was an important collaborator when the main-island artists conducted art projects on Green Island.
When the artists encountered dialects that they didn't understand during oral interviews, the future elder helped to explain; when the artist wanted to try to make a flute mentioned in the oral history, she took her to the nearby Lintou tree, from selecting leaves of different thicknesses, removing sharp thorns, to making the flute and practicing making sounds; when the photographer visited the island on a typhoon day, she brought fish dumplings to the shore to visit him and reminded him to pay attention to safety.
The weather on Green Island in the cold winter is extremely harsh, with sea winds carrying a salty and sticky moisture. She lives on the west side of the island and has to ride through the entire north coast every day. But not only that, passing through Gongguan Village and driving along the coastline to the northeast corner by scooter, the seawater would solidly hit the land along with the wind. On this day, the northeast monsoon was particularly strong, and she got drenched by seawater on the way. When she finally arrived at the Human Rights Museum and parked her scooter under the rain shelter, she went out again and headed towards the coral coast.
She was curious whether the strong wind and waves would be higher than those in a typhoon, and whether they would resemble the waves in the photos of the freshman photographer.
She stepped onto the wet and slippery coral stones and took a few steps forward. The wind was so strong that she walked carefully. She took out her phone to search for old photos and compared the relative positions of the stones. At the same time, she tested where to step with her foot so that she could get closer to the perspective of the freshman photographer.
In a moment, less than five minutes, the seawater suddenly rose rapidly, and big waves struck.
The future local elder picked up her phone and snapped a photo of the moment that looked very much like a typhoon day with the big waves.
《後來的人寄出的風景》展出於2023年綠島人權藝術季《傾聽裂隙的迴聲》，共有五組風景明信片和故事。以下為故事連結——
"Sceneries Posted by Those Who Came Later" is exhibited at the 2023 Green Island Human Rights Arts Festival, "Listening to the Echoes of the Cracks". There are five groups of photos and stories. Below is the link to the story——
〈那座到不了的島〉That Unreachable Island
〈背上有字的石頭〉A Rock with Lettering on Its Back
〈大浪襲來的五分鐘〉Five Minutes when the Big Waves Stroke
〈再蓋一棟新民宿〉Building Another New Guesthouse
〈照片裡看不見的虱目魚苗〉Unseen Milkfish Fry in the Photo