I did not know the alphabet when I decided to learn English. Not one letter. Not the shape of an A or the sound of a B. I had heard English in movies playing through shop windows, in conversations I could not enter, in words that slipped past me like water through a cracked wall. … Read more
I still remember the weight of that first English book. The cover was worn, the pages thin. I opened it and saw nothing but symbols letters that made no sound, words that held no meaning. I traced the first letter on cracked pavement, my finger moving over the dust, trying to make the shape my … Read more
I remember the first time I opened an English book and saw nothing but symbols. The letters did not make sounds. The words did not carry meaning. I traced the first letter on cracked pavement, my finger moving over the dust, trying to make the shape my eyes saw but my hand could not remember. … Read more
I remember the morning I wrote my first language goal. I sat in the small room, a notebook open, and I wrote: “Learn 500 words in three months.” I had heard that number somewhere. It sounded reasonable. Achievable. I underlined it twice. Three months later, I had learned maybe fifty words. The list sat in … Read more
I sat on the floor of a small room, a blank notebook in front of me. I had bought it with coins I could have used for a delicious meal, and now I stared at the emptiness. My hand hovered over the page, not touching it. I was waiting for permission. I had no alphabet. … Read more