One's language holds so much culture. I think that's part of the reason that I love studying languages. I get to see the little intricacies that are contained in the syntactical patterns, or in the words that just don't translate to my native English. It's the way that tenses just don't exist in Biblical Hebrew, or, in Spanish, how pronouns just fall to the wayside. It's the way that everything has a marked place in Koine Greek, and how the dual scripts of Ladino each beautifully portray its prose. But also, it's the way that I miss the language that I never knew. It's how my great-grandma's language was robbed from her by the wars of years past. It's how the German of my foreparents has never graced my lips, and the only way it might is through my attempt at a modern-German recreation. I wonder: what words did they make me forget when my great-grandma had it hidden, stuffed down so deep that it became lost within her bones? What words will I nev...