An Unpronounceable Legacy, or: A Brief Essay on Why I’m Learning Swedish

“Ett…två…tre…” I sat at the dinner table with a sheet of paper, jotting down Swedish numbers as my grandpa taught me what little he remembered from childhood. On command, I repeated after him, though as a born writer I was more interested in getting it on paper. “Fyra…fem…sex…sju.” He stopped on seven and made me … Read more…