That was the title of an article in today's International Herald Tribune. Speaking in Tongues - NYTimes.com

Harriet's sense of home is twisted but she has PFs.

In New York, I find I am less watchful, less greedy, less restless. Besides, I have finally acquired a handful of friends that I do not hold at arm’s length to analyze. And with them, I do not secrete every meaningful thought away in the apothecary drawers in my brain. They ask me questions and I respond with answers, not decoys or digressions. With them, too, especially when I’m angry or excited, my language is unguarded. I am suddenly “chuffed” instead of proud, “skint” in place of broke, eat “crisps” and an “aiyah” may make an appearance to indicate alarm. They rib me about my guilelessly disclosed peripatetic hodgepodge, my squirmy diphthongs and strange argot. But I am grateful that they get through my force field. I even tell them so.

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