The difference is that now I speak in french. I speak it not so clearly yet. depending on the hour of day. as I mostly use it by day, struggling with grammaire, hurting my self with an harsh accent. wounded by lunch time when my ego shouts stop. But talking french, to french people on a french land. licking the dripping letters from my lips smelling the fresh blood.
At night I still think in English,I crave in English, I eat in english. Hebrew is my language of longing, becoming biblical at times, as if I return to be Chava or Sarah or deborah the profit.
Je suis une femme parfois, qui fait la différence avec une tique de sa langue
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