When my soul began to flow into my brush, its hairs stood on end and even some of its hairs fell out. So I went on painting with a thinner, less valuable brush from the supermarket.
According to the instruction I should rather have painted with a bamboo brush with hairs from a wolf or a weasel. But not even my martin wanted to give me some hairs of his, because then he would feel uncomfortable and his soul would not be allowed to pass into nirvana…
Unfortunately the rice paper that I bought in the china shop had already been eaten up. It didn`t taste at all, I remember, so now I have to paint on normal paper from the supermarket.
I couldn`t grind enough black ink color from my ink stone because my hands ached after some time and I hardly had any material to paint. Finally it worked and there were not only black particles in my brush, but also grey ones. Together with water it looked like dirt on my paper.
Then I had enough of that Chinese ink and I went to buy watercolors from supermarket and began to meditate:
I am becoming all peaceful and let my thoughts pass by. Grey particles are dancing in front of me. Are they contents from some Chinese urn?…
Finally a swallow penetrates my sinister aura and enhances the vibration of my surrounding until the room becomes all bright. I begin to look forward to springtime and I fly with the swallow to heaven.