Come together


Today I’m feeling fine, my PC is working faster than light (I had it fixed yesterday) and its speed instills a great energy into my words. I’ve also found  a gorgeous illustration for this post in the blink of an eye, isn’t this a fine day? A few words about the title: as my readers from the Palaeolithic era (like me) will surely know, it’s the title of a famous (and cryptic, too) song by the Beatles. A couple of things led me to choose it as tagline, i.e.: the insistent and energizing beat of the drums (thank you, Ringo!), so in tune with my current mood, and the idea of aggregation suggested by the title. Indeed, it’s a matter of aggregation, united we stand, divided we fall. R U puzzled? Dear readers, I’m not having a joint, today’s word by A.Word.A.Day is really a matter of aggregation, combination, union. And a matter of blood too. Just take a look and see …


(verb: uh-GLOOT-n-ayt, adjective: uh-GLOOT-n-it, -ayt)
verb tr., intr.:
1. To form words by combining words or word elements.
2. To join or become joined as if by glue.
3. To clump or cause to clump, as red blood cells.adjective:
1. Joined or tending to join.
2. Relating to a language that makes complex words by joining words or word elements extensively. For example as in Turkish.
From Latin gluten (glue). Earliest documented use: 1541.
“Like Turkish, Tuyuca is heavily agglutinating, so that one word, hóabãsiriga means ‘I do not know how to write.'”
Tongue Twisters: In search of the world’s hardest language; The Economist (London, UK); Dec 17, 2009.
“There were two kinds of blood on that laboratory floor, and they do not agglutinate.”
Arthur B. Reeve; The Dream Doctor; Echo; 2007.
1. agglutinare (Ling)
2. agglutinare, agglutinarsi (addensare)
3. agglutinare, agglutinarsi (Med)
About the image: It’s called Blood. The artist is a painter from Argentina, Diego Fernandez. I don’t know much about him, I suppose he’s young and fond of women, at least as far as his carefulness and skill in portraying them suggests. IMHO, sensitive and talented. I don’t know who the model is as well, but I guess she must be proud of the result. She’s stunning, a blissful vision. IMHO, of course.
My final remark: Agglutination’s a peculiar feature of my second foreign language, German. I love this feature, it often helps me get to the right conclusion even in presence of words I don’t know. I just have to translate the various pieces of the word in sequence and make my guess. My favourite example is Sturmvogel. Sturm=storm + Vogel=bird. In Italian, it’s procellaria, i.e. bird of the storm (procella in Latin). You might not catch it – or at least my English-speaking readers might not – but it’s smashingly intuitive for any speaker of a Romance language. For the records, procellaria or Sturmvogel is translated as petrel in English.
I love guessing, maybe because I love thrillers and crosswords, I think I told you this before. It helps me keep my brain fit. That’s why I love German. And Latin too. It might sound odd, but they have a lot in common, though originating from different roots. Much more than German and English, strange but true. If you see it from a certain perspective, there’s some kind of affinity between Germans and Italians (I hope my German readers won’t mind), after all the former are kinda hot-blooded beneath their (apparently) cold surface – who remembers the Sturm-und-Drang movement, for example?
Hot-blooded. Blood. The circle closes in the end.
Your passionate (Italian) Translator

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