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livinginasecondlanguage.blogspot.com

living in a second language: Understood

http://livinginasecondlanguage.blogspot.com/2014/07/understood.html

Living in a second language. Friday, July 11, 2014. Elusive but unintentionally so. Nearly invisible - that part was on purpose. You've managed the storms and made discernment your profession. As if your life depended on it. A life lived only in the moonlight, a swirling whirlpool of anticipating and persuading. Silent and quiet survival. Labels: my continuing analysis of you. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). American living in Europe since 1997. View my complete profile. Me as I really am.

livinginasecondlanguage.blogspot.com

living in a second language: These arms of mine

http://livinginasecondlanguage.blogspot.com/2013/10/these-arms-of-mine.html

Living in a second language. Saturday, October 19, 2013. These arms of mine. Amazing and frustrating at once, a system you have no recollection of having established is somehow in place. Undeniably so. Phantom pain blends with real and you find yourself stuck, literally, arms in the air with your shirt half off. Its time for your annual blog post. I miss them. - M. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). American living in Europe since 1997. View my complete profile. Me as I really am. The Good Word of Sprout.

livinginasecondlanguage.blogspot.com

living in a second language: Artifacts

http://livinginasecondlanguage.blogspot.com/2014/07/artifacts.html

Living in a second language. Sunday, July 06, 2014. You take them out of the shrine and carry them away. Purpose in your steps, you leave them at the alter when you finally make it there. It was a long walk. A pilgrimage, you realize later. Rosebushes along the way to let you know you're still on track. As alone as you feel, you must believe that too is an illusion. Someone must have planted those roses. Your blog writings are beautifully put. Almost would say its poetry? I like your perspective on things.

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living in a second language: pace yourself

http://livinginasecondlanguage.blogspot.com/2015/05/pace-yourself.html

Living in a second language. Friday, May 01, 2015. Quiet lines, whispering ivy, silent tendrils black and silky. I thought I knew you. I've paced my life upon you. An impartial metronome, pulsing, beating, defining, reminding. Beliefs carved into ancient marble, patterns immortalized into timeless sound, stories told with forever paint on the walls of caves unexposed to the elements. In my darkest moments, you are everything. And in my purest, you are nothing. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).

livinginasecondlanguage.blogspot.com

living in a second language: Dust of the moon

http://livinginasecondlanguage.blogspot.com/2014/07/dust-of-moon.html

Living in a second language. Sunday, July 13, 2014. Dust of the moon. It is possible you see more clearly in the dark. You know that's what it's for - that darkness - to give your eyes a rest. To let you feel your way. You use it, that darkness. Your hand is guided as you smudge the lines of shadows cast here. The perimeter whispers to you. You know where you are now. A vessel, a sacred bowl. In your hand, a black silk ribbon you always hold. You let go and it unfurls, falling without fear.

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living in a second language: legacy

http://livinginasecondlanguage.blogspot.com/2014/11/legacy.html

Living in a second language. Saturday, November 08, 2014. Rainbows of a different sort. All the right colors, ribbons grounded below your feet, circling up, wrapped around you just tight enough to be confusing. Bound yes, but with softness and beauty. Colored silk, smooth and watery, no knots to be found. You assumed it was to keep you prisoner. You learn it was to keep you safe from harm. You understand the only risk of harm comes from within. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile.

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living in a second language: La salle des sceaux

http://livinginasecondlanguage.blogspot.com/2014/09/la-salle-des-sceaux.html

Living in a second language. Friday, September 19, 2014. La salle des sceaux. Four walls, no windows - light is not allowed here. Only a door. Made of iron black with age and wood that no longer knows it was ever alive. The brightest tapestries do not fade here, an incomprehensible blend of vibrant colors against a backdrop of fabric that ages silently with no real reason to do so and certainly no witnesses. This is a room where forever means something. Where the walls whisper, "You are infinite.".

livinginasecondlanguage.blogspot.com

living in a second language: Walking after midnight

http://livinginasecondlanguage.blogspot.com/2013/01/walking-after-midnight.html

Living in a second language. Monday, January 28, 2013. Dark and quiet, no animals, just you. Ferns and leaves long brown beneath you, canopies above. A trail of hard-working lace, intricate and purposeful, left like breadcrumbs in this forest so you can find your way home. Pieces of a vintage quilt you'll sew together one day. Separate perhaps, at least for a time. You see now they were never apart. How much blood does it take to get to the truth? Follow its river, study its stains. Yeah, its nice. 10 ru...

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living in a second language: And so you slay your dragons

http://livinginasecondlanguage.blogspot.com/2014/07/and-so-you-slay-your-dragons.html

Living in a second language. Thursday, July 10, 2014. And so you slay your dragons. You wake up with a blister - not on your foot - you can still advance comfortably. It's on your hand. No memory of holding a sword or wielding a dagger, you've somehow managed to carry the trace of a battle you don't remember fighting. It's just a blister, right? You are aware of it, but barely more. Somehow it has managed to nearly heal while it remained invisible. Or maybe it was never really that bad. Me as I really am.

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living in a second language: Oh the places you'll go

http://livinginasecondlanguage.blogspot.com/2012/12/oh-places-youll-go.html

Living in a second language. Saturday, December 15, 2012. Oh the places you'll go. Indian food first though. It's hard to find spice here, the palate is accustomed to subtlety, and spice is much more overt than that. We wander a labyrinth filled with sights and sounds, whips and chains for our minds to play with, find a spot and stop. We ignore infringements and invitations, we lock ourselves in, or at least you do. I follow your lead, however badly. Anon - thank you for remembering. Me as I really am.