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I'm at the sink, rinsing dishes, and the television is going. I hear some non-English language, at first I think it's French. Some phrases that I understand. Then I realize-- Danish. It's some horror series about blood and hospitals that I can't imagine goes over well on Danish public television. Which is maybe why it's on the Independent Film Channel. But I listen for a while, making out a few simple sentences. It's comforting to hear the rhythm of it, the inflections. But I can't follow the dialogue without subtitles. No way. And a ghost of some old panic rises up in my stomach, reminding me of news broadcasts and street corner babble that I could never understand. When I first got back to the U.S. I loved t.v. news -- probably the first and last time ever: "They actually *read* you the news?" And I still oddly cherish bits of overheard conversation. 7/27/2001 10:21:43 AM
i cried in a church in vienna, virginia 7/17/2001 10:51:49 AM
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