A monk dreams of a tiger, and from the dream a spring is born. Inked in the spirit of old scrolls, its edge hi…
A monk dreams of a tiger, and from the dream a spring is born. Inked in the spirit of old scrolls, its edge hidden, its power restrained. When you walk, the air stirs like water breaking from stone. To wear it is to carry antiquity in your stride, and make it new.