I was threading my way through my backdoor neighborhood. I reached the edge of a large park whose trees stood tall and dark, as if to refute my entry. I walked along the row of houses and came upon a fenced area where there was nothing but shrubs and grass. And as I looked through the barbed wires, a question surfaced in my head on its own, and not without some force: "What is the language that you speak?"
(Never mind that I was dancing.)