text: It was almost two years ago, March 28th, when I found myself onboarding the Z216 overnight train. Xian - the ancient capital of China, a pearl on the Silk Road, was awaiting. It's been 7 months since I've been here, and yet, China was nowhere to be found. Where were the crimson temples on holy mountains, merging with the dragons of gold? Where were the gardens of balance and faith? Why music no longer felt like the wind, floating underneath you, taking you towards your true self? The elhu did not belong in the cities, it's voice was overtaken by the sound of destruction. Glass and steel giants devoured everything along their way. The temples, the gardens, the homes of their ancestors. There was no rest for their greatest conquest. Theirs was not the sound of creation, but the world crying for help, in loss of its heritage, of it's identity, of its wealth. On another loud and crowded train I found myself, chasing freedom, chasing peace, yet unable to break free from the grips of chaos, of destruction. We are told that peace can be found everywhere, for me, it was impossible to find it on that train. I was sitting near the window, trying to press myself as close as I could towards it. With every inch trying to disappear into its cold existence. Nonetheless, it was hard to ignore the disgust I was feeling from looking out, towards what my dreams had turned into. Gray, repetitive, competing with the mountains and stomping on humanity. Yet, peace could be found even in times of restlessness, or so I chose to believe. With every gentle breath, I distanced myself from the window, observing the people around me. Emerging myself into the sound of music was challenging, for the sounds of conversation and burst of emotion, overpowered technology. Pickled chicken legs, with a questionable scent, continuously being spat out into the ever growing plastic waste. The incredible warmness and curiosity of people, accompanied by persistent glazes, often made boundaries more challenging to create. Yet all was miniscule, compared to the announcements which did not seem to stop, for they with great enthusiasm, overtook all sound. Chaos was inside me and chaos was outside. I grew to believe that one's relationship with their surroundings is influenced by their state of mind. Indeed, my surroundings created a restlessness within, yet was the restlessness one of refusing defeat? I could not surrender to China becoming another memorial of cultural identity loss. I refused to believe that the steel giants will spread across all lands, until the mountains are nowhere to be seen. Until all is cold. My desire to dwell into misery was overtaken by hunger. As I enjoyed my dinner, I found myself sharing meals and conversations. Conversations with words neither side could understand, yet pleasant memories were made, and family pictures were taken. At midnight the dark sky covered up the atrocities made in disguise, miles after miles, there stood the giants, with no life. Early Friday morning I arrived. A city like no other, for it was with modernity which honoured it's past. The elhu sang in the gardens of the Giant Goose Pagoda. Fountains, statues, shops and houses spread across narrow roads. One after the other - non overshadowing the Great Wall. That is - in parts of the city, yet it was more than I had seen. Comforted I felt within its ancient walls, no longer an ant, finding its way home, feeling lost. A human again I was, my surroundings reflected my nature. I could see the gray roofs of the brick houses, and only a few steps would take to cross a street. At night, I could look into people's lit homes, and comfort would warmly take me in. A great adventure was ahead of me, the ancient paintings are what I wanted to see. It was 5am, on a Monday, when I took an empty train. To a land, far outside the city, a land the metal giants haven't yet claimed. A small village I arrived at, watched over by one of the holy five - Hua Shan - the Western Mountain. Mount Hua, my eyes tear when I think of your beauty, your magesticity, your gentle embrace. For I will never forget my first climb, alone on my path, I witnessed wonders of human faith. A climb like no other, for Hua was no mountain, but a true giant of steep rock, standing high, protecting all. As I reached her peak , the sun was growing weak. A crowd was on every step, with no peace surrounding the temple of crimson red. Patience and time was what I needed, yet the last bus was soon leaving. Sitting I found myself, on a stone, reaching towards it's edge, witnessing what life can create. Children with parents as their guide, friends standing side by side, loved ones hand in hand, honoring their ancestral land. Trees emerging out of the rocks, reaching further towards their Gods. The small red cloths, a prayer flag they are called; inscribed with hope, were gems on the crown Hua wore. The sun had merged with the mountains, the sky was light, yet heavy at first sight. I was there, alone, all the paths were empty, all I had was a moment for a single song. As I stood there, on the edge of the cliff, with ancient temples on each side, decorated in red light, I was in a dream-like state of mind. I saw the paintings, they were in front of my eyes, a dream they were no longer. The elhu was singing with joy, with desire to live, to survive, to surpass time and human greed. Hua Shan, I looked at you for the last time, my heart full of fear, my eyes full of tears. I took a deep breath. I wanted to remember forever your wealth. A forest of green mountains far beyond what I could see. Together, they formed waves, and held you in their warm embrace. Peace was not found on your mountain top, for peace was not yet within me. Yet faith was, strength was, admiration of your existence was. When I took my last glance, a gentle smile appeared on my face, as my eyes reflected the mountains last light of the day. I was alone, a woman, a stranger, standing with a purpose, to fight for my true home.