As a Chicago-born writer raised in a blend of African and Irish storytelling traditions, I’ve come to see mahjong not as gambling, but as a midnight ritual of stillness and grace. In 'Mahjong Hu Le,' every spin is a breath — golden tiles glowing like lanterns, pandas watching silently. This isn’t about winning. It’s about the quiet rhythm between anticipation and release. I play not for rewards, but for the poetry in the pause.