Language is never purple.

The manager at the studio I work at is Portuguese. Her accent is of endless intrigue to me, because she certainly accents words differently but she also arranges them differently in a way that is completely sensical much of the time but also very unique.

Sometimes I find myself arranging sentences as she would, for example "The 15 images on CD, it's 179.95" whereas normally I would say it with no pause and, actually, probably with the sentence re-organized with images on CD coming at the end: "it's 179.95 for 15 images on CD"...

Anyways, it's gotten me thinking once again about language and how much I like to play with it. So for a new bit of fridge poetry, this one not in haiku format because I liked it too much as it was.









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