There was a choice made right from the start of this text. Would it be written in Greek or in English? Greek would probably have been preferable as it is the language I grew up with; what we'd call my mother tongue in Greek. So it would be the language of my mother, given to me by her through birth, which sounds a bit upsetting. Consider if everything you said was uttered under permission from your mother. If she had not given you the language you'd be mute. Unable to communicate, voiceless. It follows that your very words should carry her approval... I shudder at this thought. I like words that scream out defiance, that probably insult and certainly evoke strong feelings. My mother does not swear. I am not sure I've ever heard her say anything worse than... Hmm! I was going to say idiot but I am not sure she says that either... My mother also thinks that sex is some horrible act that should be kept under lock and key, for fear it could soil the innocent. I think you get the idea. I do not seek or want her approval, or any one's for that matter... So English it is. Poor English, badly constructed. Still mine! I chose to learn this language, I conquered it, in what degree, remains to be seen. Still... learning a foreign language is like discovering a continent and yes i know it sounds so very colonial but in a personal way the continent becomes yours. And we come to the meat of the matter so to say.
I have to name something I lost or gave away that can never be replaced. Someone could say that in the light of the previous paragraph that something is language. But have I lost Greek? Was Greek ever mine? I am not so sure that I ever owned Greek like I do English, or hope to own Russian and Gaeilge. Can you own a language that is used against you every day of your life? I have no idea. Somehow it's easier to kick internal censors when thinking or writing in English. Hence may be I've lost Greek. Can it be replaced? Again no idea. It would have to be something liberating enough to cause me to unlearn and relearn Greek. To make Greek a language of freedom instead of a language of obligation and of subjugation. Bah! Enough with this. Lets try something else. Is there something I've given away and can not be replaced?
I'll quickly pass over the cliche, stereotypical answers of love betrayed, friendship equally forsaken, and trust thrown on the floor and stepped on. What I've ever really given away in vast quantities is words. Stories told, stories written, stories thrown at people. Stories made up and stories secretly scribbled on the back of work and school notebooks. I've wooed people with stories and mourned over people with stories. Sad or happy I make up stories in my head. Well, this puts me in a very favourable light, but are stories given out irreplaceable? Surely a story is just an arrangement of words and words are reusable and inexhaustible. Take... and for example. I can use it to say something like " ... and little Maria bend over the well top" as well as say "... take two egg whites and whisk them together". It's the same and yes? Not really. A story is more than the sum of the words you use to say it. It's the tempo of breaths used, the tone of voice, the fingerprints of the narrator clearly visible. Each story is unique. If you ask me to write this naive little text again tomorrow, I'd never be able to reproduce it as is. It'd be a new different text. Literary.
And we come to the important question, which the topic doesn't ask. "Do you regret giving the irreplaceable something?"
No! I've never regretted giving my stories to people. Even those people who ignored them and just threw them away. I may have felt miffed at that point in time, but I've never regretted it. You see when you give out a story, you get back one. It's the story of the reader, or the not reader in some cases. Stories come and stories go, round and round in circles. Life is but the sum of our stories told in whispers or shouts.
