Narration by Moon Seungsung
Haegeum by Chaeeun Lee
Violin by Eu-An Su
Guitar by Seungyeon Lee
Piano by Sohee Baek
This piece was inspired by a conversation with Moon about the question, "Where is home
to you?” It begins with a haegeum (a traditional Korean string instrument) solo, playing
just five notes- drawing from traditional Korean musical modes that are built on five-note
scales. Also, the percussive sounds from guitar are repeated to evoke the sound of
moktak 목탁- a wooden percussion used in Buddhist temples. This opening represents our
identity and roots as Koreans. The violin enters, symbolising our lives in the UK. It plays
melodies and rhythms that contrast sharply with haegeum. The two instruments then
begin to play together- but not quite in harmony. They coexist, almost as if they’re playing
separately. This reflects the feeling of being a stranger. Gradually, this awkward duo starts
to find a fragile harmony in a major key, joined by guitar, piano and the nature sound. The
feeling still remains a bit unsettled. We are still searching for home. Sometimes we think
we’ve found it, and other times, we’re not so sure.
Lyrics
Poem by Moon Seungsung
I crossed the sea with steady feet,
sure of the person I used to be.
But the winds here whisper doubt,
and I break, again and again
fractured by questions I cannot answer.
Is it me, made fragile from the start?
Or is it this land, indifferent,
weighing me down with its unfamiliar sky?
If I were elsewhere, would I feel whole,
or is this breaking simply who I am?
I have lived apart for so long
once thrilled by distance,
now haunted by its cost.
My parents age in photographs,
their hands more worn, their smiles thinner.
I missed time I will never reclaim.
But at least they see
the version of me I polished for the world
not the cracks, only the shine.
Or so I try to believe.
I miss them.
So much that it hurts quietly,
in places I don’t often speak of.
But I cannot return
not yet.
Not until I become someone
worthy of everything they gave up.
Was that their sacrifice,
or a pressure I built myself,
layer by layer, in silence?
Where is home,
when no place calls me back?
Korea is warm
its streets lined with memory,
its food love disguised as routine.
Everyone smiles,
everything welcomes.
But still
why do I feel so far away there, too?
Why did we leave what we love
to live in places that never learned how to love us?
The UK does not claim me,
and I cannot claim it.
I have no roots,
only movement.
No belonging,
only borrowed time.
Yet
on trains,
on buses,
in the hush between stations
I breathe.
Motion is my only stillness.
Only there do I feel no pressure
to live, to be, to perform.
In those moments,
I don’t need to speak,
or make sense of my presence.
I am just passing through,
and that is enough.
Through this lens, I saw echoes of my own ache
in every stranger’s silence
displaced, doubtful, longing for places
that may never return.
Now I speak these truths into the quiet,
each word a small step toward belonging
building, with my own voice,
a place I can finally call home.