Until you've seen Zimbabwe, you live in darkness.

Only it seems to me that once in your life before you die you ought to see a country where they don't talk in English and don't even want to.

I was born into a class that did not live in its native language. I was born into a city that feared its future, and trained me for emigration.

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.

You don’t have a home until you leave it and then, when you have left it, you never can go back.

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

You never know what life is like, until you have lived it.

You don't know how to live until you learn how to die.

You've never lived until you've almost died. For those who have fought for it, life has a flavor the protected shall never know.

If you are stuck in life, travel to a place you have never heard of.

Every time another tribe becomes extinct and their language dies, another way of life and another way of understanding the world disappears forever. Even if it has been painstakingly studied and recorded, a language without a people to speak it means little. A language can only live if its people live, and if today’s uncontacted tribes are to have a future, we must respect their right to choose their own way of life.

Good luck and believe me, dearest Doc - it's better to look at the sky than live there. Such an empty place; so vague. Just a country where the thunder goes and things disappear.

To some extent, leaving the community was even harder than transitioning. I had no idea what I was getting into. I didn't know anyone, couldn't speak the language, and didn't have an education. I didn't know how to dress. I didn't know how to talk. I remember the first time walking into a Starbucks, I was like, 'OK, what's happening here?' The culture shock is just in every level, every way. It's like being an immigrant in your own country.

We couldn't understand because we were too far... and could not remember because we were traveling in the night of first ages, those ages that had gone, leaving hardly a sign... and no memories.