We
have a history once grand but not forgotten. Time washes
away the insignificant pieces and also permanently marks
the milestones. A pat romance, the memories worshipped
with deep passion as the colors of the past fade. The
storms and lightening of history leave us their marks
of divine madness and violence. Let us stand back and
observe it, grasp it and sense it …the magnificence,
power and charm, dignity and mystery…
Inside my mind, a painting is nothing more than a painting
itself. I would prefer to say that I am more of a poet.
It's a touch of loneliness and helplessness. Try to
hear it and feel it … it is absolute beauty, but
unspeakable melancholy, unstoppable, overflowing out
of the ruins of the looming Beijing City, the darkness
and the mist.
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