Poem: Playing the Headless Chicken (Erhu, Chinese Violin)
Two strings dusty and unused for a very long time. Not a great quality they told me but it should suffice for someone who is just starting to play. What matters to me is that it is a connection to who has played before. The blood that runs in my veins the tunes that used to float through the air. It will take me years. It will take a lot of practice. "Headless chicken" screeching until I get the bowing and the fingering just right. But the joy is in the journey In the discovery and the challenge I hope my ancestors smile even if they might cringe as I take baby steps into perfection.