Sunday, October 30, 2011

Who likes October snowstorms?

Here is my essay so far- it may sound really unorganized or disconnected, but I'm working on it... I think the lack of power is really getting into my head...

     I peered over my grandfather’s shoulder, attempting to catch a glance at the brush that hovered over the paper. Its black-stained hairs glistened as it lowered onto the surface of the white sheet, flowing across the page with hypnotic movements.
     Stroke one. Grand jeté. Stroke two. The brush sashays. Stroke three. Dip. Stroke four. Sway.
            “What does that mean?”
            Shui.” Water.
            “Why does that word look so funny?”
            “Each stroke used to be drawn as curves- like the currents in a river. Now, we just write the character like this.”
            “Oh…” I tilted my six-year-old head. “Can you teach me how to write that?”

    Written Mandarin, like any artistic masterpiece, is an art that requires the time, patience, and diligence to master. Every written character involves great attentiveness and care; each radical and stroke of every word is as detailed as the refined pigments in a painting. Not only has written Mandarin become an art, but it has also evolved into a thread that, over time, has sewn the multiple Asian cultures together. This centuries-old written language represents cultures that have composed the heritage of a people, and it has carved a cultural identity and history.

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