the art of language

found on the side of my teapot:


(click on the photo to enlarge)

as someone who came here without speaking a word of english, i find this a charming reminder of the difficulty of mastering a language. when my family moved to the united states, i was 8. during one of the first few days here, i was playing outside (with a ball made of foil, one of the few random toys i had in those first few years, along with a doll, a gi joe (that explains a lot, doesn't it?), a my little pony, and a stuffed dog i had brought from poland). anyway, someone tried to talk to me and i ran away because i didn't know what to say (some things never change). i went to my mom and she had me memorize a few sounds that i could say as a response. i was very proud of myself, even though i had no idea where each new word started and ended. now, i'm guessing she just taught me to say "i do not speak english", but in my head, it remains just a faint memory of a series of consonants and vowels.