I listen.

“It is too tiring to live like this. I cannot spend my whole time explaining the meaning of words to you, and I can’t be questioned by you all day long.”

You come out from bath, covering your body with that blue towel. You are so cold to me. You leave me there alone.

I feel like being abandoned. The word I learned the first day I arrived London in the bloody red Nuttington House. It is the second word in my Concise Dictionary, coming after Abacus.

You carry on:

“It is so hard for me. I don’t have my own space to think about my sculptures, my things, and my own words. I don’t have time to be on my own. Now when I talk to other people, I become slower and slower. I am losing my words.”

I listen. I am upset to hear this. I have to say something to defend myself.

“If so, that is not my fault. It is just because we live in such different cultures. It is very difficult for both you and I to find the right way to communicate.”

You listen, then you say: “You really are starting to speak English properly.”

After this, the evening we are in the world of silence. I don’t want ask you any words anymore, at least not in several hours, and I tell myself I shouldn’t talk to you either, at least tonight. You not want talk to me. The air in the house becomes heavy. Finally you say to me: “Come with me to see a film.” I take my jacket and I follow you. We are driving the white van to the cinema. Oh, cinema saves our life.

Yes, maybe you are right. Words maybe not really the first thing in life. Words are void. Words are dry and distant towards the emotional world.

Maybe I should give up learning words.

Maybe I should give up writing down words every day.

nonsense

nonsense n. 1. something that has or makes no sense; 2. absurd language; 3. foolish behaviour.

I am sick of speaking English like this. I am sick of writing English like this. I feel as if I am being tied up, as if I am living in a prison. I am scared that I have become a person who is always very aware of talking, speaking, and I have become a person without confidence, because I can’t be me. I have become so small, so tiny, while the English culture surrounding me becomes enormous. It swallows me, and it rapes me. I wish I could just go back to my own language now. But is my own native language simple enough? I still remember the pain of studying Chinese characters when I was a child at school.

Why do we have to study languages? Why do we have to force ourselves to communicate with people? Why is the process of communication so troubled and so painful?

discord

discord n. 1. a lack of agreement or harmony between people; 2. harsh confused sounds.

Forgot since when, we started to fight.

We fight everyday. We argue everyday. The sound in this house is discord. Fighting for a cup of tea. Fighting for the misunderstanding of a word. Fighting for the ways I like to add the vinegar in the foods but you hate it. Fighting for the freedom as you think it is important more than anything else.

Argument expands onto every possible direction:

Typical argument 1: (On Tibet)

“I remember you saying that Tibet belongs to China. I can’t believe you can think that.”

“Well…You see things from a white English’s point of view. Shame that your English failed to colonise Tibet and China,” I throw back.

“But now Tibet is colonised by the Chinese!” You raise your volume.

“If Tibetan is not with Chinese, then it ruled by British Empire, or American anyway. Because Tibet never really been economically independent! They always need rely on others, rely on powerful government. Since China and Tibet are in the same piece of land, why we two can’t be together?”

“It depends what you mean by ‘together’! It can’t be at the cost of Tibetan culture. And look how many Tibetans you’ve killed…”

“I didn’t kill any Tibetans! No any other Chinese I know in my life killed any Tibetans! In fact, nobody in China wants go to that desert!”

“But the Chinese government killed Tibetans.”

“Yes, of course BBC news only report bad side of China.”

Typical argument 2: (On food)

“It is boring eat with you everyday. You only eat vegetable, no wheat, no pasta, no white rice, no bread, only goat cheese, let alone any fish. Hardly any restaurant suits you. And not very much fun for my cooking either. My parents will say you lose the most joyful thing in your life.”

“Well, you are the enemy of animals. How many animals do you think you have killed in your life?” You fight poison with poison.

“Eating animals is the human nature. In the forest, tiger eats rabbit. Lion eats deer. That’s how the nature works.” That’s how my teacher said in my middle school.

“But you Chinese eat anything, even endangered species. I bet if dinosaurs roamed the forests of China, someone would want to see what dinosaur meat tasted like. How come you people have no sense of protecting nature?”

“But what so different of eating plants? Everything has its life. If you are so pure, why not just stop eating? So you can have no shit?”

“You are impossible to talk to!” You stand up, leaving the dinner table.

Typical argument 3: (On career)

I say I want to be a great English speaker among other Chinese. And I want to do something big in my life and get fame.

“You’re so bloody ambitious. What’s the point of fame? Why not just try to be yourself.”

“Why ambitious is not a good thing?” I ask.

“Well, for a start, it makes you pretty difficult to live with,” you say.

These words hurt me.

“OK, so I have big ambitious, and it ugly. But why you want to show your sculptures to others? You should just make your own thing and never show it to people!”

“I want to show the sculptures to others because I am curious about what they might think. I’m curious about their reactions. I don’t care about being someone big. I don’t care about fame or money.”

“That because you are a white English living in England and you own the property and you have social security. You are boss of yourself, so you have dignity. But I don’t have anything here in your country! I have to struggle to get these things!”

I am almost shouting, but I should not shout in your private property. People call policeman to come anytime in this country.

identity

identity n. 1. the state of being a specified person or thing; 2. individuality or personality; 3. the state of being the same.

I try to be quiet with you in the house. I have been reading books you gave to me. I quickly finished Oscar Wilde’s The Happy Prince and Other Tales. I loved the nightingale story. It was so sad. Nightingale’s love not being valued by the prince at all. Why beautiful story always is sad? And I loved the selfish giant who has a huge garden too, but the last sentence made me cry. It goes like this: “And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.” I start reading To The Lighthouse. You are right, it is quite difficult for me. On the back it says it is about a middle-aged woman with her eight children in a summer house. Eight children without any husband? It must be a hard book. I holding breath while read the first page. I can’t breathe freely because there are hardly full stops. Virginia Woolf must be a very wordy person. The writing is so forceful, is nearly painful for me to read. I suddenly understand that you must be suffered a lot from me, because I am so forceful and demanding on words too. And even worse, you are forced to listen my messy English every single moment. You are unlucky to be my lover.