She is hygge.
She is the X on the lonely adventurer’s forbidden treasure map.
She is petrichor after a long summer’s drought, evanescent.
She is fernweh – Scotland, Ireland, rural Japan, places with history I can’t comprehend.
She is paradox: the complexity of simplicity, the awe-inspiring simplicity of the deeply complex.
She is the unexpected delivery of a single stargazer lily, from a secret admirer.
She is lagom.
She is serendipity.
She is a radiant smile cast freely into the world, resplendent, incandescent, lighting all, eradicating shadows, adding extra hue to everything it touches.
She is saudade.
She is aliferous, threatening to bring me to close to the sun.
She is reverie.
She is ataraxia.
She is rarity, a curio, arcane, selcouth, impossibly unique.
She is aware.
She is apricity, and Elysian, catharsis.
She is kalon.
She is a zephyr when no shade is to be found, psithurism in autumn.
She is frisson.
She is mamihlapinatapei.
She is stardust, stellar, too enormous in depth and breadth to fully comprehend but entrancing nonetheless.
She is a mermaid, singing, each to each, and I think she will sing to me.