Yes, ‘there needs not be a reason’, often. We don’t have to always know ‘why’. But that doesn’t take away the power, the magic, of asking: Why? Why you choose this, of all infinite parallel universes. Why practice piano for the joy, the self. Why teach. Why live in a foreign region of a foreign land without soy sauce or soymilk or tofu or berries coffee beans yoga mats string lights ... a beautiful baby grand Yamaha beside a floor to ceiling French window lined by hanging monstera plants?

Of course. The asking of the question is a reason in itself. It is grounding in itself. I wrote, I knew before, I would need to ask these questions again and again throughout my relocation here. Why am I here? And I know. Some answers remain, some change. Some disappear or falter.

But time and again, I sure am glad.

There’s a deeply unknowable blessing. Here, waiting to be noticed, discovered, unlocked.

The spectacularly simple, simple fullness of this beginning, this tempo, rhythm, peace and passion, calm and excitement, rest and energy, observing and emoting. How perfectly natural it is, that I find myself in this space, this version of my universe. Smiling the most earnest smile as I wash tomatoes in the stream. Pomidor. Pomidor. Like a spell. From the first word, to here, now.

Sağ olun.

Happy Khankendi Day. September 20. Even from here I can hear the music. The celebration begins, and continues.

Cake, dumplings, beer. A magic spell.
2 weeks, countless tiny miracles. Once again, we allow ourselves to be suspended in such simple awe.

Leaf tree. Card games. The heart and its magnetic field.

Yellow dumpster. Sunset sky.

What a family we’ve built.

The cold. The damp. Rain. Frozen fingers. Frozen instruments. The ‘fresh crisp air’. The students, parents, families, patients, caregivers, farmers, brewers, librarians, volunteers … Laughing-crying faces. Bubbles, kids, puppies, hot chocolate, sleeping-bag-warmed pizza. Colours, magic.

“Made in China?”

Yes.
Yes, me.
I was made in China.

Even now, the voices remain.
The conversations that have yet to happen, going on and on.
The distinct tones, rhythms, inflections of their voices. The vibrations, pulse. Mannerism.

I must have been listening to these voices since before I was born.

“Antigonish loved Tong’s performance! Beyond her incredible talent as a pianist, we loved her wise, heartfelt introductions to the repertoire. It was a truly engaging concert.” -Norine Verberg

“Astounding performance! So much physical strength and introspective intellect. Her playing was flawless and full of articulated tone that I've never heard before. Thoroughly enjoyable! -Bill Carpenter