With One Speaking Tongue
The French language is well known for its esthetically pleasing way of expressing an over-exaggeration of emotion. Everything becomes an exclamation, a roll of the eyes and a point of contention so much so that the ending of words seem to disappear into an emotional collage of nasal versatility that only Parisian French seems to recognize: Je ne sais quoi, qu’en pensez-vous?
German is the language mother would use when she wanted to let us know she was upset. A perfect vehicle for disciple. Pointing her finger angrily at the kitchen table set upon with white embroidered cloth and two bottles of red wine on either end, plates of pasta everywhere. Grüner Salat, olive oil and beautifully seasoned tomato sauce; dinner of course would be in Italian.
Swedish seems an ideal way to convey depression, isolation and eminent doom, so eloquent in the rich cinema history of the late Ingmar Bergman, the master of exploring all three themes and more in his intense thought-provoking films.
“The shades are drawn
Under the covers, of life.
The nurturing mattress of a buffered existence
Hearkens to the weight
That whispers in my ear.
An echo of lost life
Begone of day’s light
Restore the dim fog of clouds blindness.
Woe is me”
If symbols can be used to represent concepts – an alphabet combination uniquely portrayed, applied and individually interpreted – than anything can be expressed in an infinite number of ways, an opportunity for multi-dimensional thought. A brain teaser for all those who, like me, speak with only one tongue.