العربية

This language is slowly telling me its secrets. I'm only frustrated that it isn't telling them to me faster, or that I read sentences or hear different dialects and the secrets are being withheld. There are moments of standing in front of insurmountable walls, and then, with the onset of another day, the walls aren't quite as high anymore and the next thing I know, I'm over them. The only problem is, even if I can't see it right away, sooner or later another one pops up in front of me. Normally it isn't visible from afar. If I could see it coming, I could avoid it. Usually I'm looking off to the side admiring a tree or gazing up at the cotton candy clouds when BAM! I find myself rubbing my forehead and growling at the thing in front of me on which I just smacked it. Painted all over this wall are unfamiliar combinations of squiggles and dots that hold fast to one another's hands and refuse to tell me what they're saying. They don't even look at me. Just go on about their business, traipsing like soldiers back and forth from wall edge to wall edge. I shake my fist at them. I sigh dramatically. I even grab tightly to my scalp, thinking maybe if I pull hard enough, some unforeseen comprehension will come seeping out. It doesn't though. And that curvy script just keeps sluicing across stone. I'll get you, my pretty. You just wait. One of these days, I'll get you.