I moved to Sweden three years ago this very day.
The time has raced by at rocket speed.
At I.'s dinner party last night, the English mathematician living in Germany - he's lived there for 14 years - said to me, "you don't miss home yet, do you."
He was right, I haven't every really missed the States. And I'd always figured that if I don't miss it by now, I'll never miss it.
But maybe I've been wrong.
"I wonder if part of my being happy has to do with not knowing the language, that when I really start to use Swedish relatively exclusively, I'll lose part of myself," I said to him.
"Oh, no," he replied. "It makes you hold on to the language even more."
Which didn't really answer the question I was asking, which was not about losing the language but about losing myself. But the subject changed when someone asked another question, and I never ended up probing deeper into it.
- by Francis S., faux philosopher