Have you ever tried to describe a feeling so specific, so delicately human, that no English word could quite hold it?
That tug between heartbreak and hope, or the quiet courage to keep going when the world feels heavy, those emotions exist, but English often fails to name them.
Around the world, other languages have done what English hasn’t: they’ve given names to the unspoken corners of our hearts. As someone who often drifts between words and worlds, I’ve found English to be... limited. It’s practical, yes.
But when it comes to the poetry of being human to the bittersweet ache of nostalgia, the thrill of near-love, or the fragile beauty of impermanence, English stumbles.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s why so many of us find comfort in borrowing words…