摘要
BEFORE leaving to begin his studies in the U.S. in 1997, the prodigy Lang Lang, 15, gave a solo piano concert in Shanghai. In the city that has bred a galaxy of renowned artists, the lad was greeted with instant recognition and mass adoration. The theater was fully packed for the farewell-for-now performance, and extra seats were set up in the aisles.
I felt a lump in my throat and a warm sense of belonging stand-ing in front of the China Pavilion. For 90 percent of the year I am racing to somewhere in the world for my next performance on a tour. The pavilion seemed to mur-mur to wanderers like me: "Come home whenever you can. East or west, home is the best."
