Little Space Language Novelas e Histórias

Me: “Uhh…time difference” Rebbeca: “It’s only one-hour baby girl” Me: “No, it’s only 8 for me, too early…” Rebbeca: “Do you think me a fool little girl? Your mommy or daddy should have taught you better” Me: “I don’t have a mommy or daddy L” Rebbeca: “If you were my little I would’ve punished you for lying” Me: “Sowwwyyyy….” Rebbeca: “It’s time to sleep”

Xi Lan says as he showed the little apartment to sunny. Sunny was so amazed by the so-called little apartment! "how can they call this a little apartment?! The word little doesn't show in this house! it was so huge that she thinks it's even bigger than the six rooms in the orphanage!" she said in her mind! it was the very first time she had seen a room as huge as this! it has everything she needed too! from the food to clothes, and shoes! "Uhm.. this..." sunny could not bring herself to say what she wants!

"My legal team follows instructions well. You challenge every assumption I bring into the room." "Someone should." "Apparently no one has, until now." We ordered dinner in, ate at his desk surrounded by documents, the conversation drifting easily between negotiation strategy and smaller things. Favorite languages. The particular satisfaction of catching an error no one else noticed. "What's your favorite language to work in?" he asked, setting aside his fork. "French, surprisingly. It's the most precise. There's a word for almost every nuance, which means there's less room for misunderstanding." "And your least favorite?"

Important. “What. About. This. One?” Lora asked. Holding. Invitation. Elegant. Simple. Beautiful. Sienna. Smiled. Touching. Stomach. Gently. Automatically. “Perfect. Like. Everything. Else. Today.” They moved. To. Baby. Store. Next. Overwhelmed. By. Tiny. Clothes. Tiny. Shoes. Tiny. Everything. “Oh. My. God.” Sienna whispered. Holding. Up. Onesie. Size. Of. Her. Hand. “How. Is. Something. So. Small. Real?”

he said. "I know," she said. "That's why I'm saying it plainly rather than making it into a larger conversation." He looked at her with something quiet and specific. "You're very good at knowing which conversations need to be large and which ones just need to be said," he said. "Ancient linguistics," she said. "I understand how much language a thing actually requires." He almost smiled. They stood at the railing with the afternoon doing its clean specific thing around them. "One more week of the semester," he said.

By the following dry season, the north house had become too full for the word temporary, too alive for the word facility, and far too particular for any bureaucrat to summarize properly. That was probably why it worked. The line had always loved summary. Adults did too. Outcomes were easier to write than lives. The north house resisted summary by insisting on the granular. This lamp. That door. Blue. The folded worksheet. The fish. No shoes in the hall. Soup first. Ask first. The language of rescue, Louelita discovered, was not grand at all. It was simply specific enough that no child had to guess where they stood inside it. On the first anniversary of the red tin coming home, Louelita stood

Grace says to me with a serious look on her face as we head back home, my nerves were on edge after what she told me and I asked her to teach me thier language. Books....and more books...SO MANY BOOKS for one language, I felt like I was drowning with literature by noon and we had not had lunch yet let along breakfast, "Miche Grando Mauluine?" I asked her as she looked at me and nodded as we got up to go to the store and fetch some food. "Wait in the car, I made a list to make Stew from home." She said and I smiled widely and nodded as she got out and locked this tiny but loud moving seat. I recalled her calling it Care maybe? NO C-A-R...Car!, I had finally learned one word that was not of my

The practice is the language I have been given. He opened the pocket notebook and wrote: The library notes at two hundred pages. The first question and the answer that took two hundred pages to accumulate. The vocabulary is the gift of the people — Frances and Ellie and Ada and Tom and Owen and Miriam and Ruth and Ellie and the four-year-old and the girl of eleven. Each word found in the attending. He wrote: practice is the language I have been given. He sent it to himself.

The specific quality of two people who were speaking a language that had been built from the specific ordinary materials of three blocks of Philadelphia pavement and the correct amount of brown sugar and the background in the geological colors. A language that had no other speakers. Just them. And the boy down the hall who had invented it. I looked at her. "Simultaneously," I said. She looked at me. "The ending and the beginning," she said. "The same moment." "Yes," I said. She looked at the hallway. At the six inch gap. At the light. "Adrian," she said. "Yes." "The pocket," she said. I looked at her. "The moment," she said.

she stated, having a glass of water from the one she took from the fridge. Laura turned her eyes from the sparkling kitchen utensils to her friend who was resting her back to the huge fancy table in the middle of the kitchen. "You call this small?" Her eyes widened after asking the question. "How can you say this apartment is small, this is five times bigger than my house" Those words almost made Jasmine spit out the water in her mouth. Well for the poor who never lived in a house with such facilities before it was a golden place they had never seen. So, Jasmine could understand her friend's point of view. .