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Jelle’s been speaking a lot of Italian lately, which is weirder on me than it is on him. There he is, muttering and stuttering with the goofiest ‘I’m gonna get my point across one way or another’ look, gesticulating when in difficulty although i’m right there and could translate for him.

I remember learning English and Tagalog, how putting pressure on myself to learn how to sound like a proper citizen, and not a parrot version, meant i preferred reading and listening and thinking in a language that was not my mothertongue. Up to now, i cannot read Italian-translated novels, watch movies that are not in the language they were shot in, and my thoughts are a 3-way conversation. Wonder what would happen if i were to learn a fourth language? Read the rest of this entry »

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