Je t’aime. The words fell from my lips like a feather in a dusted breeze. The familiarity of the phrase lingered as I formed a second, te amo. I meditated on the opaque levity of each letter and each weighted pause. The humidity of the silence contracted my body like an endless sea: dooset daram. I washed away in the echo of my heartbeat and heard myself booming: ani ohevet otach. Can you hear me? I love you. Five languages. One phrase. And you still didn’t understand.