My family reminds me that a dying language cannot be saved. My family reminds me that a dialect can turn in on itself. My family reminds me that silence comes in the shape of gratitude and mercy is found in the soft light of the hallway.
My family reminds me that a dying language cannot be saved. My family reminds me that a dialect can turn in on itself. My family reminds me that silence comes in the shape of gratitude and mercy is found in the soft light of the hallway.