Sitting here in my little chair I'm hearing at least four different languages being spoken simultaneously, a writhing cacophony of syllables. Arabic, clicking, crunching, curling, ripples like a river in the sand; Chinese bounces and bends in a mystic dance as ancient as time; Japanese dribbles like rain on a roof, active yet passive, adaptable yet impenetrable; and then, there is English, churning out remnants of its complicated past in spats of warm, flat sound.
To me this is heaven, and if there is any justification for the invention of the automobile, the aeroplane, the racket and roar of modern existence, it is this room. This coming together of planet earth in one unlikley portion of square footage, out in the middle of a field where for centuries there was nothing but sun, and wind, and rain.
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