Something about his hesitation struck me as profound. I’ve always been less interested in crossing borders than in dwelling in them. And in that moment of hesitation, I could sense the presence of a border: something beyond language itself.The world would be a terribly boring place if it were to be completely overtaken by English, that shallow business language that can be understood anywhere. My intention here isn’t to denigrate English, any more than it is to commend French. It simply struck me that it is moments like these—when the strange specificity of a place is foregrounded in all its richness—that compel us to cross borders in the first place.