I’m about to not be able to use my language for 2 months and do the things I really love to do like read and write and I’m quite scared of that. I’ll only be able to do those things in a language I don’t have any real grasp on, and that scares me. What will happen to my dreams without my being able to write them down, or my thoughts or ideas. Well I know, they’ll disappear and it will be like they never happened but there will be a hole because I knew they existed once and then that hole will disappear because I will forget that I ever had them. Just like death. I fear I’ll be suffocated by not being able to express myself and enjoy myself in the most familiar ways to me, ways I’ve achieved a sort of proficiency in, and which please me very much. That feels like a kind of death to me, albeit temporary. Maybe my need to read and write will hasten my learning of the language, or maybe I’ll discover abstract form.
Wednesday, June 18, 2025
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
the deep end
I’m about to not be able to use my language for 2 months and do the things I really love to do like read and write and I’m quite scared of t...
-
I am grateful for Arlo Guthrie, roads, trains, gnarled kids and sad parents, weather, laborers, workers, cigarettes, my liberty, New York...
-
At square in tribeca with the lentil soup. The boys in the booth in front of me get a tuna melt and start going on about the pickle. “So wha...
-
Fiction drop: https://nomoreprostitutes.com/Althea-Champion