60 years ago or so, a young woman named Ida peeked shyly into the room that her church had set aside to house a poor music student who worked as the church's janitor and choir director to pay his rent. In that room, she saw a tiny space strewn with opened books and dirty clothes and she shook her head in wonder. Now she looks into my room, shakes her head and says, 'You must get it from Gung gung.'