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Nodrophobia
n.
the fear of irrevocable actions and irreversible processes—knowing that a colorful shirt will fade a little more with every wash, that your tooth enamel is wearing away molecule by molecule, never to grow back.
n.
the fear of irrevocable actions and irreversible processes—knowing that a colorful shirt will fade a little more with every wash, that your tooth enamel is wearing away molecule by molecule, never to grow back.
Nodrophobia | The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows
CRAXIS
n. the unease of knowing how quickly your circumstances could change on you—that no matter how carefully you shape your life into what you want it to be, the whole thing could be overturned in an instant, with little more than a single word, a single step, a phone call out of the blue, and by the end of next week you might already be looking... See more
n. the unease of knowing how quickly your circumstances could change on you—that no matter how carefully you shape your life into what you want it to be, the whole thing could be overturned in an instant, with little more than a single word, a single step, a phone call out of the blue, and by the end of next week you might already be looking... See more
Maria Popova • The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows: Uncommonly Lovely Invented Words for What We Feel but Cannot Name
Melissa is not coming back, the trout aren’t, and neither is the elephant nor the pelican. Nature might invent a speckled proud coldwater fighting fish again but she will never again give the improbable elephant another go.
Peter Heller • The Dog Stars
If your life can hang from a chewing gum wrapper it can hang from anything in the book. It can hang from a bullet no bigger than a bean, or from a cigarette smoked in bed, or a bad breakfast that causes the doctor to sew the absorbent cotton inside you. From a slick tire tread or the hiccups or from kissing the wrong woman. Life is a rental
... See moreElliott Chaze • Black Wings Has My Angel
Flesh in a porcelain finish—because breaking apart was
only the first step.
Death: a thrift store mirror, cracked in all the bright places.
Roadkill. How it talks back.
Question : Are we there yet?
Feel the wind coming in fours.
Listen to the seasons galloping. The hunters dropping
quail mid-flight.
Kneel if you’ll take me, lips flushed past open.
Kneel... See more
only the first step.
Death: a thrift store mirror, cracked in all the bright places.
Roadkill. How it talks back.
Question : Are we there yet?
Feel the wind coming in fours.
Listen to the seasons galloping. The hunters dropping
quail mid-flight.
Kneel if you’ll take me, lips flushed past open.
Kneel... See more