Alien

For all that I know, it could have been an alien tongue altogether. I may know the language, but I have yet to grasp the intricacies of the Western culture. It is the user, not the language per se that makes up the language. It is the verbal sparring that makes the Western western. And I have no practice at that sort of thing, living here in Singapore. Singapore is a place with aloof service staff, pared down to the merely functional and said for the sake of business, and nothing else. There is no aesthetic.

But over there, it takes ingenuity to keep up with the conversational pinball, that it tests my limits and revamps my conventional ideas of socializing. Banter requires skill, pronunciation requires skill and effort, and I am utterly defeated. Here, the impassive bears out its advantages. I am laconic, born and made. The silence is welcoming.