April 2, 2007
Flash Fiction Number 17 - Language Learner
I learn the words, pronouncing each one with feeling, as only a human being can feel.
But your language is still foreign. It’s not mine because I did not grow up with it. I did not say my first words with it or think my first thoughts of love with it. Even now the flutters that I get are a foreign translation. Maybe you cannot see my butterflies when they flutter about with other words.
They say that all human beings think with the same feelings, but when we feel with the same thoughts, maybe then you will understand me.
Posted by carl1236 at April 2, 2007 12:53 PM | Writing