Ink is the blood of the Art of Calligraphy:
The Chinese language wriggles and writhes
under the constraints of an ordered civilization;
If it grows stale with history, the Art breaks it free:
calligraphers summon the soul of a word,
know it, love it
and breathe new life into it,
a delicate transfusion from old to new bodies.
The word appears ike an old friend in new clothing,
years later living a new life,
but still carrying the same essence,
the same character.