A Word About Language

Learning a new language outside of the safety of the classroom is very similar to a person becoming blind. Everyday we take our tongue for granted, assuming it will be understood no matter what situation we are put into. When it’s ripped away from your mouth you learn to adapt to rely on other forms of senses and communication: reading the slightest twitch in an otherwise placid facial expression—the slightest undertone of an otherwise calm voice. Luckily the Spanish speak with a multitude of gestures, giving hints as to what the tongue-less and clue-less are missing out on. The Spanish language itself is dowsed in so much beauty to begin with that it can transform the ugly habit of eavesdropping and turn it into a private symphony of sounds. The mixture of familiar, unknown, and rhythmic words swirling around the inner rims of the eardrum, tantalizing the brain when a new phrase or word gently touches it becomes somewhat of an addiction. I have begun to keep a small journal to use only for unknown words, acting as my only net for catching a word’s meaning before a light breeze blows it softly away. Day by day I feel my net gaining weight, and slowly feeding my tongue as it gains back its strength once more.

The Maze

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