Memories of Shanbei come in shades of black and white.
Amid the stones of Oxford past and present he paints it.
I reach out to touch it, real but not concrete.
Celtic mists swirl in with rain from the West
to shower the East, clouded in the spirit of the Dao, and meet
in the mind of the artist. Fingers grasp the brush to request
the muses for movement, swift and light.
Copyright©Madras Courier, All Rights Reserved. You may share using our article tools. Please don't cut articles from madrascourier.com and redistribute by email, post to the web, mobile phone or social media.Please send in your feed back and comments to editor@madrascourier.com