My case can certainly not be unique. Among middle-class Indians, for example, there must be many who have done their schooling in English, who routinely speak English in the workplace and at home (throwing in the odd local location for colouring), who command other languages only imperfectly, yet who, as they listen to themselves speak or as they read what they have written, have the uneasy feeling that there is something false going on.
(It's better to create than destroy what's unnecessary)
Friday, May 9, 2008
Diary of a Bad Year - pg. 197
Labels: J. M. Coetzee
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