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They are talking English

I hear my heart beat. I’m probably staring. Have to stop staring. Staring bad. Bad, bad, bad. Just keep looking intrigued. Yeah, I’ll do that. Looking intrigued is probably the safest thing to do here. I nod from time to time. So that it seems I’m following the conversation without being a staring idiot. They are talking about some stuff that happened at the last London event. I only get pieces. Too fast. I would sort of disturb the flow of communication in this room if I’d interrupted each time my lack of vocabulary reminds me Hey, I’m still here. They are having some laughs. I don’t get the topic, I don’t get most of the phrases they use. But I’m comfy. Too friends of mine are here, that’s all I need. I don’t fancy talking; I fancy company and general understanding. Things feel all right here. I just have to trust. And I have to get my heart beat under control, and my longing to just listen and stare. I so love the melody of this language. It’s almost painful to get back to the staccato of German after every convention. I guess it’s my father’s genes, the musical ears, so to speak. I’m not sure. I've read some letters my mum had written to him a few months before my birth: her writing equals mine a lot. And details she described are the same my eye would catch.

So, maybe, she had had some influence after all.

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Ah, there it is again.

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And again.

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Two sentences, I suppose: The British guy just gibbered something that sounded to me like two very long, much unknown words. I don’t care. Words I can learn with the help of a dictionary. I’m not trying to understand semantics. But I want to get into the melody thing. Melody good. Good, good, good. Keep singing, British bird, keep going. On the other hand… My longing to stare and pick the British folk’s brain, at least to keep them talking, for my very own excitement – damn am I excited! – is, I assume (choosing a perspective that in the long run is not mine), related to, uhm, the being root behavior family. I guess. So maybe I should deactivate the musical ears and actually join the conversation. If I’d only knew, what they are talking about.

Text: Marianne Jaffke, www.originalmaja.de