Some Unnamed Relationship Quotes

It was possible she might not have the right feeling after all, that she wasn't in love, wasn't in limerence, but was in some unnamed place alone.

It is not, on the whole, that natural phenomena and entities themselves are disappearing; rather that there are fewer people able to name them, and that once they go unnamed they go to some degree unseen. Language deficit leads to attention deficit. As we further deplete our ability to name, describe and figure particular aspects of our places, our competence for understanding and imagining possible relationships with non-human nature is correspondingly depleted. The ethno-linguist K. David Harrison bleakly declares that language death means the loss of ‘long-cultivated knowledge that has guided human–environment interaction for millennia … accumulated wisdom and observations of generations of people about the natural world, plants, animals, weather, soil. The loss [is] incalculable, the knowledge mostly unrecoverable.’ Or as Tim Dee neatly puts it, ‘Without a name made in our mouths, an animal or a place struggles to find purchase in our minds or our hearts.

That night over sushi, Rayya launched into the most incredible of tales. She told me that the last time she was home in Detroit, some of her friends and family members had staged a reverse intervention, gathering together to tell her that they really, really wanted her to start drinking wine. Apparently Rayya’s loved ones back in Detroit had claimed that they longed to be able to share a nice bottle of wine with her sometimes—just as they shared wine with everyone else. Why should she miss out on a glass of wine, they said, especially in a sophisticated or celebratory setting? Especially because she was such a foodie, who appreciated delicious things! They’d also apparently reported that they hated seeing her trapped forever in the disgraceful old label of “addict,” when she had not used drugs for so long and was clearly cured of her addiction. At what point would it end—this shameful burden of always having to call oneself an addict? It was as if Rayya were being forced to wear a scarlet letter! She was a completely different person now than she had been twenty years ago! Why must she continue to be exiled from the pleasant experience of adult beverages, like some kind of child? Why must she remain an outsider? If anything, it made them feel uncomfortable when she didn’t drink. “Come, now,” had said these loving—and curiously unnamed—people. “Just have one drink of wine with us! Try it! It won’t do you any harm!” “So I did have just one glass of wine,” confessed Rayya. “And it was really nice! And it didn’t do me any harm. So what I want to tell you is this, even though it terrifies me to say it: I would like to start having a glass of wine with you sometimes at dinner. But I’m so afraid to bring it up, because I’m afraid you’ll condemn me for it, and I’ll lose you!” “You could never lose me, honey!” I said. “Never in life!” And, because I’ve always been a sucker for grand gestures of loyalty, I said, “In fact, let’s order you a glass of wine right now!” and I immediately called over the waiter.