Hiltje
@hiltje
Hiltje
@hiltje
I chose Achmet because it is his mother-tongue; and he is an obliging, patient fellow. But he cannot read or write, and that is why I ply my grammar, in the hope of fixing the colloquial: do you not find that a spoken language wafts in and out of your mind, leaving little trace unless you anchor it with print?’
Some of the men we knew declared their love to us in English, the language a deception, a second skin they donned and shed as they wished. We fell in love with these guys, swept up in the slipperiness of their words, their declarations. We were in love. We thought we were in love. We felt sure it was love, this time.
There’s a curse word in Croatian, “kurčenje”, used to describe someone — usually a guy — who’s full of himself and acts like it.
Kinda like peacocking, but isn’t related to clothes.
I would take me at least one full paragraph to describe it.
Instead, I can use a single word.
I love it when I find words that carry so much weight.
Language, though, is tough and resilient, a tenacity backed up by a long history. Its autonomy cannot be lost or seriously damaged, however roughly it is handled. It is the right of all writers to experiment with the possibilities of language and expand the range of its effectiveness. Without that adventurous spirit, nothing new can ever be born.