The Language Of Love, Part One
When I was 14, I went to stay with a pen-friend. There was some of the time I was with her Mum. She was a nice enough lady, however, she didn't speak my language and I didn't speak hers.
For a short period of time, we managed to communicate.
My pen-friend wrote down a few common phrases for me to be able to communicate somewhat with her.
We got by but it was only for a short period of time. Had the time we were spending together been much longer, we would have found in increasingly difficult unless one of us learned the other's language. We each knew what we wanted/needed in our own minds but communicating in our own languages did not help the other to work out what we needed.
We just did not understand each other and so the relationship couldn't ever grow and prosper unless we could...
Jeany Pavett, author of Life After Death: A Mother's Story