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Chapter 105 The Color of Water

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    ?

    About wetness and dryness.

    After listening to yoli's watercolor class, I couldn't help but do it.  Medium-coarse paper with a rough, exaggerated texture that feels like sand.

    No, it is actually not as soft as the sand.  In the desert of Shanshan, if you step on it, you will be instantly covered by soft and flowing sand, where there is a temperature that has been ravaged by the blazing sun and sandstorms.

    At that time, there were no people on the sand dunes. I thought of a fox, the ballad at the beginning of the East Palace.

    ?

    A fox, it is sitting on the sand dunes, sitting on the sand dunes, looking at the moon It turns out that it is not looking at the moon, but waiting for the girl who returns from herding sheep

    A fox, it is sitting on the sand dunes, sitting on the sand dunes, basking in the sun It turns out that it is not basking in the sun, but waiting for a girl passing by on a horse

    But looking at the moon, the fox saw the desolation, the girl who came back from herding the sheep took away her heart.

    But basking in the sun, the fox's heart flustered, and the girl who passed by on horseback disappeared.

    Fox, fox, can't wait for the girl who returns from herding the sheep, or the girl who passes by on horseback.

    ?

    I have been listening to this song while repeatedly brushing the medium-thick drawing paper.  Watching the back of the paper get wet and gradually see the luster, mix the dirtiest colors on the palette together, and wait.

    When the paper surface was still watery, I held the tip of the brush with my hand, and the dark brown, dark green, khaki, and azurite were entangled and fell on the paper surface.

    When encountering the wet paper surface, the color blooms instantly and spreads infinitely There is no rules, no rules, no restraints.  The appearance of wanton diffusion is enviable.

    The pencil line drawing underneath, a vase with a simple and upright attitude, suddenly became a business.

    The writing brush used is Qiu Hongzhai and Ye Yin.

    The toughness of the pen tip is just right, and it is more comfortable to use than ordinary brushes.  A little bit of color, a little brushstroke, chasing the remaining moisture on the paper.  Light and shadow, texture, weight, the vase flower is no longer a still life, it has breath and emotion at that moment.

    The last stroke is over, and the color is still staining on the paper, trying to remember what it looks like at this moment.  Because when I looked at it the next day, the paper that had already dried up was just a still life.  (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com
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