liminal space

i like language, and languages, because i like specificity, maybe, or ambiguity,

or when they dance around each other, sometimes one meaning, or another:

twilight: i took a class on aspect, taught in french, accidentally,

the difference between a thing happening, or the moment a thing happened.

la crepuscule, la tombee de la nuit -- the twilight, the dusk, the sunset, nightfall, sundown:

there are so many, and they are interchangeable, but not the quite the same.

my russian professor talked about possession, that the language does not quite express "to have,"

instead, у меня есть, "it exists next to me," and it means the same,

but it doesn't quite.

my point is: i live my life in liminal spaces, on trains, in cities i can't pronounce,

sometimes in timezones i can't calculate, romanticizing all of it.

i wish i lived in the thing happening, i wish i could put more words to that,

instead of waiting for the thing to happen, and writing about that, at the end.

у меня есть: i am not russian nor speak it well but there is something poignant,

it is there, next to me, not mine.

there are always cities i can't pronounce, but the twilight is the same color,

the sudden sunset,

the way life exists next to me, waiting to happen,

still talking about the colors, the pronunciations,

about the safety of ambiguity, hiding myself in language,

always in liminal spaces.