In 1998, I suddenly realized that the world a newborn baby sees is completely different from what we adults understand. Around that time, a translated book, *The Sensory World of an Infant*, arrived in Hong Kong. Once it sold out, it was gone forever; there were probably only a few dozen copies in the entire city. In the womb, a baby doesn't need to eat or breathe. Opening or closing their eyes makes no difference, so they don't know about sight, day and night, temperature, or touch. They don't even know they have a "self." Upon birth, you first discover sight, but you don't know what it is—it's incredibly confusing. Then you realize you need to breathe, and you're cold; others are touching you—everything is chaotic. After a while, you understand; you finally know you're not part of your mother; you have a "self." Then, you feel hungry for the first time, and you urinate and defecate for the first time. You experience the feeling of time passing for the first time. You realize for the first time that "I" can die. You know about day and night for the first time. Everything is a first. So, the first day you are born is the longest day of your life. The first hour of your life is the longest hour of your life. In this way, you use the first hour, the first day, the first month, the first year of your life to understand the years to come. You take your first impressions as the way the world is/its principles, because before that, "you" did not exist. This is called "preconceived notions." After the first year, your preconceived notions can no longer be changed because your brain has largely completed its development. Thus, you have beliefs, assumptions, and orientations, which form your personality as you grow up.