Italish

It turns out language isn’t set. It’s not some solid thing that exists in your head fully formed. It changes, morphs, and flows over time. This is all the more true in a foreign context where a different language can climb right in and make itself at home without you even noticing. Next thing you know, your annunciation, rhythm, and even thinking are different. This has been my experience with Italian. Despite clinging to English as some sort of safety blanket from home, my mother tongue has become warped. I doubt myself in a way I never did before. But at the same time it’s also richer, more varied, more diverse. And with this shift in language comes the inevitable shift in identity. After all, we are what we think.