Every language belongs to a specific place. It can migrate, it can spread. But usually it’s tied to a geographical territory, a country. - Jhumpa Lahiri

When you live in a country where your own language is considered foreign, you can feel a continuous sense of estrangement.

Americans, in spite of their public declarations of affection, in spite of their miniskirts and bikinis, in spite of their hand-holding on the street and lying on top of each other on the Cambridge Common, prefer their privacy.

When the language one identifies with is far away, one does everything possible to keep it alive. Because words bring back everything: the place, the people, the life, the streets, the life, the sky, the flowers, the sounds. When you live without your own language you feel weightless and, at the same time, overloaded. Your breathe another type of air, at a different altitude. You are always aware of the difference.