She may have passed away a long time ago, the elderly lady who taught me how to pronounce “refrigerator” with an American accent. I wonder if she could hear my whispers, the unspoken words. Continue reading “The Elderly Lady With An American Accent”
Tag: Memory
The contrast – a story about two professors
I was making an effort to catch the essence of what she was illustrating. The chart showed how Old English changed and developed into Middle English. How the words in late Old English period started loosing their inflections. A slight noise was intruding. What was it? I looked out the window. The sun was shining brightly. The leaves of birch trees showed a deep tone of green. It was unusually quiet, even the birds were taking a rest on this early spring day in April.
The cafe was closed
The wind was howling in the streets. The winter sun didn’t provide much warmth. Wrapped in layers of clothes, I could feel the wind penetrating my winter coat and wool sweater. The weather forecast set on my phone showed minus twelve with strong southwest wind.
I tried to push the door open, it was locked. I knocked on the door, no one answered. The cafe was closed. I had been longing to cuddle up on that Baroque style sofa covered with velvet in purple. I had been longing to get myself lost in some passing, incoherent thoughts, smelling freshly brewed Americano and cinnamon buns and hearing some nice pieces of Jazz. I had been longing to feel the charm of Australian accent.
The place where my soul belongs to
So here I am, sitting on the soft sandy beach and facing the sea. The longing has eased, the thrill is back. The soft sound of waves, pushing back and forth. It’s my retreat. For some unexplainable reasons, it seems to be where my soul belongs to. It’s just the feelings, yes, it’s all about the feelings. The feeling of coming home. Continue reading “The place where my soul belongs to”
