I have a thing for words; an obsession; an infatuation. A logolepsy. Give them to me in any shape or form. Song lyrics, poetry, spoken verse, seven-hundred page novels, simple one-line phrases.
I love the spaces between words. The chance to pause and take it in. An escape; an abditory.
I love how reading them draws me in. Into another world, another realm, an alternate reality.
I love how words have the power to transform, to change minds, to reshape old ideas and mold new ones. A metanoia.
I love discovering words in other languages that have beautifully simple direct translations.
Handskoen (Afrikaans): Hand-shoe, glove
Nacktschneck (German): Naked snail, slug
Dedos de los pies (Spanish): Foot fingers, toes
Or words with no direct English translation at all.
Culaccino (Italian): The mark left on a surface by the bottom of a wet glass
Saudade (Portuguese): Profound melancholic longing for someone
Yugen (Japanese): Mysterious sense of beauty of the universe
And I love reading lines that speak directly to my soul.
“Here I am, suspended between the sidewalk and twilight.” (Ellen Bass, The World Has Need of You)
“Love is more thicker than forget.” (EE Cummings)
“I am restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being putlled by the stars again.” (Anais Nin)
Words that explain exactly what I am feeling in ways that I cannot;
as if extricated from my own mind.
I love that the lyrics from a song can cleanse a broken heart. A letter from one stranger to another can move a third to tears. A poem can make the loneliest soul feel understood.
I love that I can devour words at three hundred per minute, underlining the ones that grab me, saving poetry all over my phone, scribbling quotes on scraps of paper, tattooing them on my heart.
I love discovering words that have been forgotten, or new ones that I have never known.
Incandescent: glowing with intense heat
Sonder: The realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own
Clandestine: Conducted with secrecy
Epeolatry: the worship of words