时间的浪潮涌动着,无情又无奈地将我们推向迷雾重重的远方。我们像江心上的一块浮木,任由流水冲得四处飘零。这流水是善意的——它推着我们向前奔跑;这流水是冷漠的,让我们来不及驻足于江畔的美好。若有机会回到过去,我定会漂洋过海,去重温那被墨香浸染的时刻。我自四年级便邂逅了书法艺术。起初,看老师端坐于木桌前,信手拈来一支毛笔,旋即在石砚台边蘸了些许墨,轻刮笔尖,在宣纸上落笔,经转腕、顿笔等一连串潇洒 The tide of time surged, mercilessly and reluctantly pushed us to the foggy afar. We are like a piece of driftwood in the heart of the river, leaving the water rushing around drifting. This water was good-it pushed us forward; it was indifferent and made us too late to embrace the beauty of the river. If there is a chance to return to the past, I will be across the sea, to revisit the moment was ink. I met calligraphy art since the fourth grade. At first, look at the teacher sitting at the wooden table in front of a brush at a stroke, immediately in the inkstone edge dipped a little ink, lightly brush nibs, pen in the rice paper, the wrist, Pen and a series of chic