Eight artworks.
Four collections.
One philosophy.

Spring never arrives all at once. It begins with a single blossom, a quiet branch, and two birds crossing the morning sky.

An old plum tree, still willing to flower. A visiting bird, not staying long. The rest of the paper is left alone.

Bamboo bends in a night breeze. A moon appears, without introduction. A small bird has already passed.

Ridges fade into ridges. A river passes through. A single scholar's pavilion sits at the water's edge.