Music flows within my body, and I want to dance. However, I feel trapped within the pages of innumerable books. I’m b0und, and the binding hurts… the thread is tight, and it has pierced my skin, pulling it in an unnatural way. I can reach change, but I don’t seem to want to change. I chose the easy path, and now I’m paying with huge doses of boredom.
Things should get better someday… When I graduate, for example. I do not want to start over somewhere else. I’m doing this, I must finish. Then I will find something better at another level. However, I’ve been sitting here for so long, doing this equivalent to nothing at all… Besides, I have no sensibility for literature. I used to, but I no longer do.
The girls from my school sit right behind me in class, and sometimes I’d like to ask them whether they like what they’re doing… It’s obvious they do… But for me, these are words, words, words… Words which go nowhere, words with no connection between each other. Words to be read with pleasure, not with a critical eye. I’m so ignorant… I chose to be so… What is it that I want to know?
I want to speak as many languages as I can. I want to understand when people speak, I want to see the magical connection between two cultures as one person becomes a bridge between two languages. I saw the connection in La Dorada, when I became a bridge between Minori and my grandfather. I saw the door, and the door was suddenly open.
So what am I doing here when I could be learning Mandarin, or Arabic, or Russian, or Uighur (okay, not Uighur)? I love the pain of not being able to understand, I love to strive to be understood… and when your ears finally open and the words flow into your brain, clear as rainwater… isn’t that beautiful?