ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT ARE WORDS.
How they sound, how they form, how they're managed by the brain and the tongue. Last post I wrote how my new language was like a large wad of gum in my mouth, desperate to get out but terrified to do so. In the past few days, I've asked directions and given them, postponed a hair appointment, read a children's book in Italian and enjoyed it, and laughed at the televised soap opera, translated from Americanspeak to Italianrapido. The best is that I found myself laughing at the show, without having to translate each word to English. So I've begun to think in Italian, and when I read I'm reading and thinking Italian, not reading, translating, thinking English. It's very exciting. Now the words are coming up like bubbles, boiling slowly as my pasta in the pot. Eventually they'll be coming thick and fast, and it'll be just like, oh yea, the language is on full boil, but for now, I'm ecstatic about every bubble that rises, bringing with it a new, properly pronounced WORD. Snippets of eavesdropped conversations that three weeks ago would have been a garble, now float down onto my shoulders, making sense.
I CAN READ! Does this mean I won't get lost any more? I hope I will. Because adventures await down new alleyways.
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