Poise of the Bristle

A porcelain ink-saucer rested askew upon the dark walnut surface, pinning down the splayed bamboo handle of a miniature detail brush. The damp animal bristles hovered precariously over an unvarnished coaster. I did not rush the intervention. Sinking into an anchored, grounded stance upon the polished wood grain, I wedged the keen steel spine of my war fan beneath the curved porcelain foot. A slow, calculated upward torque shifted the ceramic bowl two millimeters, freeing the handle. With the flat face of my upper fan, I guided the brush to lie true within its carved ebony trough.