In fourth century BCE China, a minor official named Zhuang Zhou declined a prime ministership, tended his lacquer garden, and wrote stories that have quietly shaped hundreds of millions of lives across two and a half thousand years. He didn't argue. He didn't preach. He told jokes that dissolved into something almost sacred, and asked a single question --- about a butterfly, about a dream, about which direction the dreaming goes --- that has never quite been answered. This is his story.

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