Finished a scroll where the brush finally felt like my hand again

Three weeks of strokes that were technically perfect and completely dead — everything felt like someone else's fingers. This morning, before the light was even any good, I did a piece that had a wobble in the vertical I didn't plan, and suddenly it was mine again. Mastery is just a long tenancy agreement with your own hand; every so often you have to let the lease lapse and see who shows up to the eviction.