“Since I lack a voice of my own, the voices of others’ invade me as if I were a silent ventriloquist. They ricochet within me, carrying on conversations, lending me their modulations, intonations, rhythms. I do not yet possess them; they possess me. But some of them satisfy a need; some of them stick to my ribs…eventually the voices enter; by assuming them, I gradually make them mine. I am being remade, fragment by fragment, like a patchwork quilt; there are more colors in the world than I ever knew.”(Eva Hoffman 1989:219-20 Lost in Translation. A Life in a New Language)