Sometimes we realize how insignificant we are when we are surrounded by the purest of pure. 
Like concentrated juice. 
Overly seasoned steak.






i

Ég hafði vin sem sagði mér að hann elskaði mig.
Koss, hvað er koss?
ii

Coming to our land and calling it your own. But don't worry. Mi casa es tú casa. It's the only phrase I need to know.  I say it when I invite people over for brunch on Tuesdays. Everyone knows what it means, silly.  It's just a welcoming phrase. 
Why is it in Spanish?  Because it sounds ugly in English.
But have a taco.
Found the recipe myself. 
I went to dinner at this taco place...can't remember the name. It was so spicy.  I made my own since I adooore crunchy taco shells.  
Corona for you. Corona for you. And, of course, a pitcher of margarita
I wish I knew what Corona meant in English but whatever.
I'm all about Taco Tuesdays!
iii

Analytical questions about the reading/you:

1. What country are you from and why?
2.Why do you speak the way you do?
3. What else do you speak?
4. But what country are you really from?
5. Can you repeat that?
6. What do they speak in your country?
7. What country are your parents from?
8. Your mom?
9. How about your father?
10. Could you explain that?
iv

It was so interesting.  I fought for the respect that this language deserved.  No one really understood why.  It's ancient, or dead, or something.
Wow you're so smart!  
No, no, no.  He's learning Latin because English comes from Latin. 

sed nesciunt

Vintage.  Like that rug I bought, so I figured it'd seem cool to speak a little Latin so I could curse at people.  That's all I'll use it for.  You have to admit the words sound funny.

exotic
v

"Οι ανθρώποι θα νομίζουν ότι είσαι εξωτικός γιατί μπορείς να μιλήσεις ελληνικά."
Transliteration:
"Oi anthrwpoi tha nomizoun oti eisai exwtikos giati mporeis na milhseis ellhnika."
Pronunciation:
"I anthropi tha nomizoon oti ise exotikos yati boris na milisis ellinika."
Translation:
"People will think you are exotic because you can speak Greek."

vi

μηκέτ' ἔπειτ' ὤφελλον ἐγὼ πέμπτοισι μετεῖναι ἀνδράσιν, ἀλλ' ἢ πρόσθε θανεῖν ἢ ἔπειτα γενέσθαι.*
Language has lost its role as being a mere method of communication and culture exchange.  Language is now symbolic.  Everything now has meaning.  The way in which you and I decide to verbally express ourselves has a symbolic purpose to others who fail to realize that language, such as plants and animals, evolve.  The way in which you and I decide to communicate to one another has an emotional effect on that someone else who fails to realize that we humans are changing.  
Language comes with either a superior or inferior complex.  Superiority becomes evident when it no longer feels like an accomplishment when speaking to someone from another country whose language is dissimilar.  Superiority becomes evident when a native English speaker assumes that a foreigner has to speak English because it developed into a lingua franca, because it's marketable, because it's my language; yet, we praise and simultaneously condemn multilingualism, multiculturalism.
We fetishize about the preconceived attractiveness of their language and culture and are equally, if not more, vexed when we are engulfed by this fetish.  We put our hands over our eyes and boast that we are omniscient.  We sew our lips shut and say that we are polyglots.  We saw off our limbs and blame them for our lack of omnipotence.  We do not speak like them, and they can speak like us, yet they are not considered omnipotent.
I fear the day when language equates power--an empire of sort in which language trickles into cultures and eventually obliterates them, and that superior language creates a disease infecting other tongues in a way that violently transcends a natural evolution, turning cognates into mutations and transfusions.  Where territories go to war to determine whose language holds the most power.
History will rewrite itself in the superior language to prove that it is the beginning of all things.
At first there was Chaos. Then Earth. Then Love.
 *mikét' épeit' ófellon egó pémptoisi metéinai andrásin, all' é prósthe thanéin é épeita genésthai. (Works and Days, Hesiod, 174-175)
vii

e pluribus, unum
tempus fugit

minds change
more [   ] is less [   ]
less [   ] is more [   ]
the more [   ], the better
the more [   ], the merrier
great minds think alike,
many minds make great things
e pluribus, unum
out of many, one
out of many [   ], [there is] one [   ]
ex uno, plures
out of one, many
out of one [   ], [there are] many [   ]
diveristy and community
diversity [with]in community
[diverse] community
travel, voyage
explore, fly
lost, Wanderlust
globe
world
cosmos
[integr]ate
as[simil]ate
an[nihil]ate
make whole
make the same
reduce to nothing
e pluribus, unum
ex uno, plures
e nihilo
, [   ]
viii

I had a friend who said he loved me
Kiss, what is a kiss?
ix

The infiltration has begun and a war is starting because these two language clans are at odds.  
One would think the language clans battle using words, but they kill.
Each clan has generations of kin who, if all were in the same area, could not understand each other.  
The most elder kin passes information to the elder kin, but is lost. The elder kin passes information to the young kin, but is lost. The young kin passes information to the younger kin, but is  lost.
Internal strife builds up amongst the generations in the clan.  
They fight themselves so they can agree to overthrow the enemy.
This enemy never sleeps.
This opposing clan cannot manage to decipher the other's code, both the code of the youngest and of the eldest kin.  Instead they merely infer quickly and react.
One person's words become indistinguishable sounds.  
That which is unknown shall either be destroyed or conquered. Þās wǣron þā word þāra forðfædra.
Words clash and become its opposite. No is yes. Stop is go. Cease becomes fire. Thirst becomes drain. These were the words of the forefathers.
Clans clash and dance to the rhythm of the sword; the bayonet swings left and right, ever which way to conduct the orchestra of cries till the clamour collapses.
Cwellende.

x

Here he is,
man on a man-made structure. 
Moving in circles, forms are contorting,
waves colliding with each other, yet
there he remains.  Horizon,
sky, vision all the same hue,
a constant light hovering,
one wind speaking in 
tongues.
May his eyes be blinded,
auditory affixation, his current global 
position is unknown, untouched is the world below;
for his ever-evolving mind is not at rest, and
Fear and Refuge fight until both can
genuflect to the man, and, panting
profusely, provide the gift of
stasis.