Certain things can never be translated, are not to be found for the people in between languages, those of us just passing through a place and a time. Some words are only for one generation, are only for one country or population. When in visiya I say the moon is big, I mean I’m thinking of the time the moon was looming over my parents’ house so large I thought its gravity would pull me off the earth. But as we walked to buy cola in the October night, my Filipino friend laughed and said the moon was fat and white like me. I allowed my mouth to smile in its luminescence. Fat and white is only a general interpretation. Tambok and puti mean something else. Somewhere else. This thought is lost, this moment is lost. I record it in a way that only warps it into a half-truth. I hope the moon isn’t self-conscious.
