There are simple gestures, almost forgotten, that return.
After removing the bed cradle that kept the weight of the blankets off his feet (what a relief), opening the sheets and placing his feet on the ground.
Walking alone through the square of San José, with sticks, but alone.
Greeting people, speaking with them.
Sitting on a bench, looking at the fountain.
Driving three hundred kilometres to leave his children at their grandmother’s.
Returning a week later to fetch them.
Finding a terrace.
Sitting down.
Having a coffee.
Reading.
Small gestures.
Great returns.
He writes in his diary; he always begins by writing by hand. His method is simple; he likes to share it: carry a notebook, write whatever comes, whenever it comes, however it comes; leave it for a few days, read it again, edit (on your computer).
That volume has accompanied him for years. In it he finds moments of his life, observations, remarks… and Dutch lessons he began after Jennie’s death. Lists of vocabulary, sentence constructions, grammar exercises.
He reads that again and remembers little.
Studying languages…
He grew up with two languages, Spanish and French. Not without difficulty, he acquired the first rudiments of English during his secondary education. He truly learned English during his stays in India, and above all thanks to Jennie.
During his travels, he taught himself the basics of Hindi, Urdu, and Bahasa Indonesia.
Later, fascinated by Chinese calligraphy, he began to study Chinese, which he eventually mastered—without excess, but enough to be able to say: I understand people, and people understand me.
Then there are the “sister” languages of a common origin: Italian, Portuguese, Catalan, which he understands quite well, but cannot speak; one does not improvise a language.
But the question has always pursued him:
Why learn languages?
Personal satisfaction?
Curiosity?
To encounter other cultures, other philosophies, other perspectives?
Philological journeys?
To arrive where…?
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