I want to write an essay about freehand brushwork in ink painting, and I want to find a topic with charm.

The wind

has been knocking at the door for a while. My window

The Gorkon in July is open to the sunset.

The freehand brushwork of ink and wash is like

a stream in a mountain stream

and a burst of frogs

falling into Yuan Ye.

I always remember the dream of smoke curling up

the clear sunshine

just like the glory of a year old.

The wind is spreading its worries to every corner of the earth.

At night,

A tear drops from the leaves.

A firefly is looking for the sunset.

Everything is so calm.

A nursery rhyme is raised in the air.

It's just that a little light slowly sinks into the darkness.

A sound echoes in the night sky. Like tears and like wind

Well

Like a circle of life

A bucket glimpses the past from the clearness of the spring

Bend down just to kiss this still memory

Face expands in ripples

Water surface and bottom

A little intimacy

Memory becomes blurred

Put down the bucket again <