L

L is the bane of the stutterer, the child outlining its cleft palate. It consists of the tongue briefly licking the ridge on roof of the mouth. Tentatively, we speak of loss. The delicacy of the sound is used to lace cruder concepts such as leer or lechery with a delightful swirl reminiscent of Benedictine liqueur. The pleasure of the tongue touching the palate is that of a sweet dissolving in the mouth. So we savor lewd, lick, linger, longing and lulled. This self-caress is also why love fascinates us, why we repeat it to others at heady, inappropriate moments, draining it as gamblers drain their luck. Lastly, L is most irresistible when paired with the sibilant S--this fully explains why we spend a third of our lives in sleep, the remainder on lust or even less.

Lunging, Loss, Light and Leaning.
My own mother used to take me on her lap, almost suffocating me as she held me to her, rocking back and forth in the dusk. I would ask what was wrong. She would say, Lessna .

Language
Leavetaking
Lie
Life
Loss
Lost
Love
Lucidity
Lust

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