Moon Tiger
“‘There’s nothing – just the window.’‘There!’ – she stabs the air – ‘Thing moving… What’s it called? Name!’‘Nothing that I can see,’ says the nurse briskly. ‘Don’t fuss, dear. You’re a bit muzzy today, that’s all. Have a sleep. I’ll draw the curtains.’The face, suddenly, relaxes. ‘Curtain,’ she mutters. ‘Curtain.’‘Yes, dear,’ says the nurse. ‘I’ll draw the curtains.’Today language abandoned me. I could not find the word for a simple object – a commonplace familiar furnishing. For an instant, I s...tared into a void. Language tethers us to the world; without it we spin like atoms. Later, I made an inventory of the room – a naming of parts: bed, chair, table, picture, vase, cupboard, window, curtain. Curtain. And I breathed again.We open our mouths and out flow words whose ancestries we do not even know. We are walking lexicons. In a single sentence of idle chatter we preserve Latin, Anglo-Saxon, Norse; we carry a museum inside our heads, each day we commemorate peoples of whom we have never heard.MoreLess
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