Within the depth of black, flowers bloom quietly, birds perch silently. No noise, no boasting, only a stillness forgotten by time. The classical brushstrokes are not mere depiction, but remembrance. They remember the cool shade of bamboo, the faint call from the branches, the longing of the human heart for nature. In this painting, I saw the philosophy of silence: the world is not to be conquered, but to be kept in watch.
