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Kesäyö. The linguist was tired. Her brain had morphed into a glob of jelly. Or perhaps jam. Something squishy and clearly unable to function. What did it mean? She craved just a pinch of the artists’ inspiration, a formula to recall the word, a starting point to bring its life to the surface, make its meaning known. Letters merely signified geometric nonsense lacking dimensionality. Eh, what was the use? 

Pen in hand, her mind wandered… fingers slowly releasing the tension, muscles relaxing (could tendons loosen on command?), jaw unclenching, imagination gaining control… Suddenly, she was flying over snow-capped mountains, squinting and shivering as the sun radiated blinding rays but only a dull warmth. A light mist began to shower the land: Mellow and refreshing, the cleanse was just what she needed. Landing quietly, as though wearing fuzzy slippers, she entered the castle.

The castle invited joyful persons inside, persons fully alive, persons desiring to share their enthusiasm and passion for life with others. It was peace of mind and inspiration itself embodied—truly, a happy place. She skipped stairs, three at a time, allowing the energy to penetrate her weakened state, already feeling rejuvenated. Kesäyö. The sound pattern reverberated through her skull. Meaning: Unknown. She turned the corner, arriving at her destination, and placed the small package carefully on a table. She felt a surge of energy, the high-frequency kind, and knew that everything was going to be all right.

Back home, she turned on some music. After a drink, noting her altered mood and feeling considerably more focused, she scanned the neurons, the axons, even the synapses. There were so many files. A note stirred something in the intellect, and at last, a definition emerged—Kesäyö: Summer night. She thought it was brilliant how music could transcend language, at least enough to suggest a translation. After all, summer nights were all that and more—kesäyö felt like radiant light, sounded like rain, seemed mellow and refreshing… was comforting and lovely, like a true friend. Or a fairy. Now, if only she trace, or rather, Finnish her original thought.