“She knows that no single specific experience led to her loss of language. Language worn ragged over thousands of years, from wear and tear by countless tongues and pens. Language worn ragged over the course of her life, by her own tongue and pen.

Each time she tried to begin a sentence, she could feel her aged heart. Her patched and repatched, dried-up, expressionless heart. The more keenly she felt it, the more fiercely she clasped the words. Until all at once, her grip slackened.

The dulled fragments dropped to her feet. The saw-toothed cogs stopped turning. A part of her, the place within her that had been worn down from hard endurance, fell away like flesh, like soft tofu dented by a spoon.”

~ Han Kang, Greek Lessons

While reading of the most unstructured books in my recent memory, I have felt my emotions quite intensely. I can’t put my finger on it. My friend Nikita Pathak agrees.

In our very chaotic, yet passionate attempt to talk about admiration for this book, Nikita and I share thoughts that the book evoked.

During this discussion about the ‘Greek Lessons’, we touched upon the significance of being in touch with other humans and enjoying the senses gifted to us in a world that is advancing technologically but regressing and in terms of genuine human relationships.