February 9
The kite rises not with the wind but against it. Only the resistance lifts it — what stands against it carries it upward.
Thoughts (freely rendered)
Listening mode
The kite rises not with the wind but against it. Only the resistance lifts it — what stands against it carries it upward.
When you speak a language you have only half mastered, you are constantly short of words. You want to say something intricate and have only simple sentences at your disposal. So you say: “I was sad.” Or: “I liked that.” Sometimes it is only as you say it that you notice this was exactly the point.
In your own language you would have had detours, a little irony, a qualification that half takes back what was said. The lack takes these escape routes away from you. What remains is often plainer than anything you would have chosen of your own accord.
But resistance doesn't only shape; it also cuts off. Some things simply cannot be said in simple sentences, and then you sound cruder or more childlike than you are. Whether a limit forces you into precision or merely makes you smaller is not something you can tell from the limit itself. It depends rather on whether you hold on to what you want to say while it presses against you.
The person across from you nods. Perhaps they have understood you. Or perhaps only the simpler person you happen to be in this language.
