Bold brush strokes slice through the riparian forest.
The quiet valley provides an empty canvas for these ancient characters.
Out of chaos the calligrapher creates order. Ideograms emerge from the emptiness.
Only with a quiet gaze do the subtle strokes begin to reveal themselves.
With a dancing brush, smooth strokes are swiftly applied to the river’s surface.
The stroke and the calligrapher, who can tell them apart? The stroke is the calligrapher and the calligrapher, the stroke.
With a final flick of the brush, the finest stroke bleeds through the delicate canvas.