And while miscommunication is (rightly?) blamed for many problems we face, I do believe we can learn to appreciate imperfection in speech.
This was reinforced in me by Manueles, who is in India teaching children how solar cookers are made, among other things. (I really must thank Dinesh and by assoc., Sky, for introducing me to such a variety of people!)
Reinforced, because earlier, I had met Amal, a deaf and dumb artist at an art exhibition.
He wore worn out jeans and sandals with a long
A pinch of haughtinessarcasm diluted his child-like innocence, but if the Muses failed him, I felt he could easily be a con-artist. Drink in hand, he blended in smoothly.
It was delightful talking to him - mostly gestures and a little writing took us a long way. He told me he taught painting and had travelled the world as an artist and that most people didn't really understand art - but you and me, mone', we are different, weren't we?
When had I been more alert and happy when speaking with someone? Not since I was a babbling child, not understanding what people were saying to me.
And so when Manueles, who is learning English, theorised that by talking in his broken English, he is probably conveying more, I readily agreed. It's because the listener, M. said, makes up more possible meanings in her head when listening to him speak in English, than she would when listening to someone who could articulate better.
So true, inscalfen? How many times are we really intently listening to what someone says? And, how many times, in our non-professional lives, is it important that we 'be clear and seek clarity'?
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