I Heard My Language On the Train

phone1I heard the American student on the way here.  Three rows back on the train.  I know a lot about him now.  I know his anxieties about graduate school.  I heard the story told by the girl next to him about being hit by a car.  Wasting time telling stories from Brussels to Frankfurt.

 

Frankfurt Train Station

Frankfurt Train Station

I don’t think they were loud, but I think I only heard English.  I also hear Spanish sometimes.  And Swedish, too.  But Flemish, French, German do not catch my ear.  Every other train conversation was a background, a ramble of consonants and syllables seeking meaning.  The announcements came in the same secret code, leaving these two as my only connections to words I understand.

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