Things become evanescent.

They advance, they retreat,

between dense and light.

The ink becomes transparent.

There is a rhythm which is beating,

inside and outside,

enveloping and atmospheric,

It can hardly be seen.

Among clouds of particles things appear and disappear in a magma of interrelationships.

There is no substance in itself, but something small

that vibrates,

unstable and interdependent,

which goes on creating worlds.

Like drops of water reflecting sky and earth,

all particles are involved in the same

transparent and inaudible dance.

They interact, reflect each other,

they contain, they are transformed,

they embrace all the others,

Everything is in relation.

Light reflections on the water.

Black ink is declining.

The brush is impregnated with the warm light of spring,

with its tones and glazes,

its rhythms and colors.

A new vibration fills the paper.