When you are in the middle of a story it isn't a story at all, but only a confusion, dark roaring, a blindness, a wreckage of shattered glass and splintered wood. It's only afterwards that it becomes anything like a story at all. When you're telling it, to yourself or to someone else.
Margaret Atwood's novel "Alias Grace" read by Michael Polley in Stories We Tell
“But in Europe where—?” he calls after me, as the taxi pulls away from the curb. “I don’t know where,” I call after him, gleefully waving farewell. I am thirty-three, and free at last of my mother and father! For a month. “But how will we know your address?” Joy! Sheer joy! “You won’t!”
How strange, that native English speakers never experienced that fancy diner during which the parents of your partner offer their Du ...
Which languages and cultures provide this experience?
Du musst mit jemandem auf Facebook befreundet sein, um ihm/ihr eine Verwandtschafts-Anfrage schicken zu können.
Es gibt immer irgendwelche Gemeinsamkeiten.
