Philias...

Philias...

The suffixes –philia and –philic are related to –phile. Philia is actually also a noun which means “amity, affection, friendship; fondness, liking,” coming from the ancient Greek word for “friendship.”  When you add –philia as a suffix, it means “love of <something.>” Below  I have compiled  a list of some the philes that define me. They are quite precise and also the only "real"philes I could find that truly relate to me:

astrophile: a lover of the stars

bibliophile: a lover of books; a book-fancier

logophile: a lover of words.

theophile: one who loves God

xenophile: fond of or attracted by foreign things or people

pluviophile: a lover of rain.

Being a lover of many things, I do not limit myself to only defining myself by the official philes as listed above. I decided to craft some of my own philias by compounding a favorite subject with its Latin, French or Greek root. Observe:

phonophile: fond of or attracted by music and/or sound

pathiophile: fond of or attracted by emotion

ocuphile: a lover of eyes. 

phyllophile: a lover of trees or leaves.

artemphile: fond of or attracted by works of art.

putophile: one who loves to think.

animophile: fond of or attracted by life and/or spirits.

cryptophile: fond of or attracted by secrets or keeping secrets.

esthaphile: fond of or attracted by beauty; a lover of sensation and feeling.

juvenphile: fond of or attracted by youth or young things.

oestophile: a lover of bones. 

mariophile: a lover of the sea or ocean.

cosmophile: a lover of the universe. 

graphiphile: a lover of the written word or writing.

amiphile: fond of or attracted by love.

urbophile: fond of or attracted by the city or urban envoirnment. (also known as "poliphile/philic/philia")

auctumnusphile: one who loves Autumn.

niphaphile: a lover of snow.

plexaphile: one who loves braids or intricate designs.

anthophile: a lover of flowers (specifically peonies).

pothichephile: fond of or attracted by pottery or more formally all things in relation to "Harry Potter".

anthrophile: fond of or attracted by people and/or human cultures (also known as "popophilic" or "demophilia").

hyperintelligeniaphile: fond of or attracted by knowing, knowledge, or growth in understanding. 

montiophile: a lover of mountains.

pseudoanticphile: fond of or attracted by things of or belonging to the past.

Hoppipolla by: Sigur Ros

The moment takes place during “Hoppîpolla” by: Sigur Rôs This song has a very uplifting, inspiring feeling about it. It never fails to elevate one’s spirit.

This is the closing moment, at the peak of all that is lost and crumbled and seems to have no way of being fixed.

Sliding right into the moment the song quietly begins after a slight moment of silence.

Her slender fingers slide along the clean window seal staring down the rain splattered glass. Her eyes, they are filled with sorrow as she gloomily looks into the window. Rain pours. She expects to see nothing, to feel nothing. Everything is wrong. But suddenly, a figure seems to emerge from the smudges of rain (the song begins now). She sits up. Could this be? Her face is pushed against the window until finally, she understands.Withdrawing her frozen fingers from the cool glass, she scurries from our view. Now we see the man, walking through the gushing rain, toward her doorstep. He stops. He knows this is right, but somehow a sliver of doubt stabs his mind. Maybe it isn’t right. He hesitates. Next the door bursts open, wide open like a gaping mouth of distressed hunger. The rain. The man. The woman. They stop a foot away from each other. A glimmer of hope and a hint of sorrow mixing in their eyes. Her eyes, his eyes. They are quizzical until suddenly, with a shrug from him and a shrug from  her, they meet each other. The hands embrace, the lips touch toughly and then the rain is upon them both. It gushes and gushes sliding over their tangled embrace. Now they pull away for a moment, racing around covered earth faster than their heartbeats. Twirling, dancing, splashing, living. They know they are free. Their feet are bare, toes are embedded with mucky earth and sink into the pillows of puddles. He lifts her, spins her, kisses her. Then the thunder roars heroically, the sun begins to peek into view eventually caressing them all into its slender, radiant arms. The earth sparkles from its dazzling new wardrobe of liquid, glints off the lovers eyes until they’re lost again in another kiss, this time for good.

The moment pulls out, up past the couple, high past the stormy clouds and fades into the sun and the song plays until the end has come. (k.b.)