MIND: Anonymity

I want to go to the mountains,
I want to go to the sea,
I want to go to a place where no one knows me,
I want to be lost among people who speak a language I don’t understand at all.

Romaji Diary & Sad Toys // Takuboku Ishikawa

MIND: Linguistics

You drink a language, you speak a language, and one day it owns you; and from then on, it falls into the habit of grasping things in your place, it takes over your mouth like a lover’s voracious kiss.

The Meursault Investigation // Kamel Daoud

MIND: Barbaric

in my barbaric tongue
flowers are called flowers
and about air I say air
and stepping on the pavement bricks
with my heels I tap in
brick brick brick
and I say stone so softly
as if stone were velvet
and I bury my face in your neck
as if a cat’s warm fur grew there
and I love
my barbaric tongue
and say: I love

In My Barbaric Tongue // Halina Poswiatowska

MIND: Foreign

Her Spanish sounds like sunlight drying a wet shirt.
And in the process, I’ve grown fond of her.

She’s delicadeza, a word that names her nature.
Whose dream deepens in the rain? Whose hair is lilacs?

The Verb To Lick from Hoodlum Birds // Eugene Gloria

MIND: Currents

Bilinguals overwhelmingly report that they feel like different people in different languages. It is often assumed that the mother tongue is the language of the true self. But, if first languages are reservoirs of emotion, second languages can be rivers undammed, freeing their speakers to ride different currents.

Love In Translation // Lauren Collins