I no longer know my body. It has begun to move on its own, flinging out gestures and sounds that I was never trained to make. Words like futur, passé, d'ailleurs now all have their own actions and the overused "I don't know" has now become just a purse of the lips and a puff of air.
My body is trapped between cultures.
And I am loving this in-between, this mix of habit and imitation that is all my own. I feel that with every day that passes my lines are all growing blurry - as if I am steadily moving closer to something. But what is that something?
I have learned all too well this can be a dangerous thing and yet still I came to France hoping that all my old habits and manners would suddenly disappear and be replaced with new ones. That wasn't so, but even still they are changing. And change is something more potent than replacement. Or it seems so, at least.
My body is trapped between cultures.
And I am loving this in-between, this mix of habit and imitation that is all my own. I feel that with every day that passes my lines are all growing blurry - as if I am steadily moving closer to something. But what is that something?
I have learned all too well this can be a dangerous thing and yet still I came to France hoping that all my old habits and manners would suddenly disappear and be replaced with new ones. That wasn't so, but even still they are changing. And change is something more potent than replacement. Or it seems so, at least.
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