French Hindi Italian Tamil Spanish Bengali. Jazz Classical Rock Bird Calls. The sound of the rain at dusk; the sound of the trees at night in September; the musicality of that man’s footsteps and the crescendo of that woman walking in stiletto heels as she meets him.
I want to fall in love in the language of silence of sacred in – betweens. The negative space in an artist’s masterpiece. The spaces between vowels between words between ‘i love yous;’ between each letter each punctuation mark each ‘I do.’
I think spaces are more poetic because they have yet to be filled. Like an empty flower pot still sitting on the window sill. And I—I want to fall in love in every language. Today it will be the sizzle of pots and pans in the kitchen as my mother cooks; tomorrow it will be the shudder of the coffee machine; the day after it will be the sound of saxophone in the subway station and the whine of an airplane overhead at night when I am surrounded by the song of street sirens.
I want to fall in love in both the language of machinery and the tempo of artistry. In both techno and piano. I want to fall in love in waltz, samba, ballet, bharathanatayam, kuchipudi and oddissi. I want to fall in love in a language that speaks more than words ever could, so that to tell me that you miss me…
all you would have to do is sing and dance and play.
I want to fall in love in every language- to pulse with a zest for life, and awaken
to everything.
Every. Miraculous. Moment.
Before me.
