When I first heard the sound of this Chinese poem, it made my skin shiver. I found myself connected to it without knowing why. What was hidden behind these foreign words? Words that meant nothing more for me but whimsical tones, unexpectedly changing their rhythms. I went to the Chinese restaurant in my neighbourhood, and asked the cook about the poem, he told me that ...

... it was written back in 754 AD by Li Po, a poet from the Tang dynasty. With black ink, on a white McDonalds napkin, the cook wrote the characters down. While he excused himself for not writing properly, I was thinking of how each of the symbols seemed to be a story in itself, and from there on, I started a journey from the smallest details of the poem to the roots of its characters, crossing a bridge from one language to another.