If you don’t have a talent for languages, learn this one.
It’s the oldest language in the world.
“He spoke a language o so primitive, that he made sense to me”.
(Buffy Sainte-Marie in her song Moonshot).
Don’t you just love communicating with people you can’t communicate with?!
It’s a poem.
A salute from heart to heart, without any facade in between.
It forces you to pay attention to eyes and tones.
To the story told by clothes, skin, hair, teeth. Hands, feet.
It forces you to remember that “language” is such a baby and so overrated and, in fact, oh so secondary.
Do you really need to have common string of letters to understand:
Benevolence, friendliness, patience, hospitality, courtesy, trustworthiness?
Flirting, charisma, poverty, humility, kindness, snobbery, arrogance?
Attention, indifference, sadness, happiness, boredom, depression, coldness, warmth?
Good eyes or bad eyes? Real smiles or social or commercial ones?
Inferiority, superiority, equality, connection, aggression, dominance?
Good vibe or bad vibe? Soul or emptiness?
NOT sharing a language is a language lesson too.
Perhaps the most important one of them all.
A formidable course in training your intuition and judge of character.
And remembering that you have that, and that it could also use training.
Your weekly language course: non-verbal communication.
Not to mention that here’s a unique and valuable person: one that you will never reduce to the level of Facebook-friend. It’s possibly a Once-Off meeting. Thus special. Liquid poetry. You will have to gather and communicate all information in one single non-verbal meeting.
“I know a boy from a tribe so primitive, he can call me up without no telephone”.
Does that make total sense to you too?