Emperor Qianlong

Last night at the lecture on Chinese copper-plate engraving during the reign of Emperor Qianlong (1735-96), I admired the woman beside me whose head dropped and who seemed to fall asleep as soon as the lights were dimmed for the lecturer to present her slide show.

I admired too the people around her who said nothing, listening to the lecturer themselves as she flashed one brilliant image after another of the copper plates made by French Jesuits and introduced to the Chinese emperor, and that I was one of the people who said nothing.

The woman who seemed asleep, a distinguished calligrapher, seemed to wake up a moment or two later--perhaps she'd never been asleep at all or she'd simply rested like a little bird rests in a tree with its head tucked slightly forward--and began taking notes by hand of only the most interesting things the lecturer was saying.

Much later, the same night, I stopped my car in front of a house I don't live in to take a picture. The light in the windows caught my attention and said something to me I needed to hear.