“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…
Es ist offiziell. Ich lerne wieder Deutsch. (… !!!!!!) Over a week ago I abruptly broke off the winter fling I’d been having with Russian, and I ran falling back into the arms of German — my first love! Ach, Deutsch, die Wahrheit ist, dass ich immer in dich verliebt war! Das lässt sich nicht … Read more…
What is it with me and my enduring passion for all things Teutophone? I mean the enduring passion that causes me to fiercely defend the aesthetics of the German language; squeal in delight to hear German spoken in my vicinity; feel my heart race in love and wonder when I hold a German-language novel in … Read more…