Sinag

I did not grow up speaking English—though English has become my dominant language. I have struggled with words and language all of my life. I have learned that language is used to dominate people. I have learned that every language is a way of translating the world and that no language translates the world without a particular bias. It is difficult for me not to dismiss writers who do not understand the political nature of language. Like everything else, language is a weapon that can be used for ill or for good.

I have also learned that language is used by all people—and that no one needs anyone else’s permission to use it. I have learned that language—like a communion wafer at Mass—is most alive when it is on the tongue of a believer. I have learned that the wrong word in a fragile moment can break a human heart. I have also learned that the right word at the right time can usher in an irrepeata­ble moment of joy. I don’t believe in romanticizing the role of language in my life or in the world I live in. Nor do I believe in reducing language to a means of making a living. I continue my struggle with words and with language and sometimes I arrive at some­thing that’s at least worth the paper its written on. To say that I love what I do is no small thing. Every time I sit down to write, I say a prayer. I am grateful for this writer’s life that is mine. When I say that writing has saved my life—only I know what that means.

This is a book. I am holding it my hands. I can never tell you what it cost me. Not ever. There is often great pain behind the words I write. But for all of that, there is also an unspeakable joy. I am the luckiest of men.