Introduction
摘要
COW—Critical Organic Writing—did not arise as genre, memoir, or autofiction. It emerged as a pulse: the quiet insistence of fragments my body would not release. These fragments were not stories seeking narrative shape, but remnants of knowledge—traces of remembering, mythic pulses, flashes of cosmology—that returned until I finally recognized them as epistemic material. They became the ground from which a method could be born.