except these, I guess.
Maybe I mean there are no adequate words, sometimes, to express what you want or mean to say.
“There are roughly 6500 different languages in the world, however about 2000 of them are only spoken by 1000 people or less”…some website I found on google told me that. I was curious. How can there be no words for certain things?
Lovers try and describe those they love, or the curve of a neck, the side of a finger, a look.
A parent tries to describe the feelings that they have for their child, the way they look when they sleep. their abandon on the playground.
A friend tries to describe how important their friend is to them…
I mean,we try, of course we do. We use big words and small, descriptive, emblematic, synonyms, metaphors, quaint and new-fangled (sorry for the lapse into the 1800’s).
Writers, real writers, work for hours, days, months on the exactly perfect descriptive phrase that will move their readers and elevate their position as a language artist. Thank god for those people. there is nothing like a well-written turn of phrase. Good fiction, or fact, beautifully written is holy, sacred.
We all use words daily, and so often they are woefully inadequate, or misconstrued, or said in haste without gauging their impact. But there are speakers who give voice to the right words, capture them somehow and use them in such a profound and meaningful way.
Most of us just use the easy ones, beautiful, sad, happy, lonely, sick, tired, mournful, disgusting….whatever, whatever.
(I do that. I use the easy and quick, I do that.)
What about that catch of breathe just as you see or read something that you had forgotten about, or missed for a very long time…a homecoming, perhaps. The sights, sounds, people…all the things surrounding that one place or event or feeling. That moment of being sucked back through time to that EXACT moment where that thing happened, that person arrived or left, you read that letter.
We keep trying to find or build those words, name those feelings and moments.
(I do, I like to do that. I’m writing this. This is me.)
What do you call it, what words do you use that can express the feeling that you have when you drop an old credit card bill into the shredder and abruptly pull it out, rip it out, because you see a charge “January 22, 2006 Forest Lawn Mortuary”?
There are no words.