When I say Deutschland I first think of autumn and language. Autumn
because of its colours, not only in the street, but also among persons and
peoples, a mixture of races, cultures, and personal searches, here, in a foreign
country. A mixture of peoples, so different in their customs, voices, ways of
thinking.
Language is the most intriguing, confusing, difficult aspect for me. In
a war among three languages inside my head and heart – Romanian, English and
German, you start feeling yourself in a maze of words, in the search for
understanding, for meaning, and for Home.
Words and accents get mixed inside yourself, and the more you stay among the
Others (while you are the other), the more a new language invents itself inside yourself. It makes you
think of what you study, of those artists who had to struggle and to live
with/among/inside a new language, forging their new identities.
But language comes for me with its own anxiety, deepening the wars
inside myself, with the miss of Home, of small routines, in a conflict with why
you are here, with your inner searches of peace, tearing you again in two … I
am used to feeling language, to play with it, to understand it … and the break
in the wall comes for me from it, from the lack of understanding. I try to
grasp a meaning, to find some ground beneath my feet, but there is only air,
and sounds, and vivid memories of a world that was … and words go too deep,
unable to grasp them anymore, but they still haunt ... as the feelings, the searches, the agenbite of inwit which are so buried, so present, inside yourself.
No comments:
Post a Comment