I assume there actually is a word for this.
Dictionary of Missing Words is an exercise in paying attention to phenomena you encounter — sensations, concepts, states between states, feelings, slippery things — that could be named, but don’t seem to be. More here and here.
Hi all. A quick note from sunny New Orleans.
Most entries in TAoN’s Dictionary of Missing Words series come from readers — but they occur to me, too. So I’ve been saving up a few, and instead of taking over the series for weeks on end, I’ve gathered them to share with you TAoN supporters. There are seven! Here goes:
Walking on a mildly chilly day under the shade of trees, and then passing through a patch of light: the fleeting warmth of the sun that makes you want to pause needs its own word.
A pair of restaurant diners, one of whom is so loud you can hear him from across the room, the other speaking too softly to be understood — and the latter’s voice seems to get lower and lower, as if trying to set an example for her high-volume companion. But you can only ever hear his half of the conversation, and in fact you can’t not hear it. This phenomenon should be named.
[Credit to E on this one.]
There’s a post-it on my laptop that displays a four-digit number in fading ink. I have no idea what it refers to. Some temporary PIN, I assume? I’m afraid to throw it away, because maybe it will turn out to have been important. This fear is so ridiculous and specific that it could use its own term.
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