I also learned that there aren’t words for everything in this world. And I’m not talking about matters of life and death. I’m not talking about lines like “there are no words for some pain.” My pain did have words, but as I scoured the bottom of the toilet bowl, as I scrubbed the mold from the bathtub, as I sliced an onion, I no longer thought with words. The thread connecting words to objects had snapped, and all that was left was the world itself. A world stripped of words.
