I know a few that feel like a breath of open air. “Wanderlust” you said – in German it’s literally “wander” + “lust,” but in English it’s almost a whole vibe. There’s “flâner” in French, to stroll with no purpose, just the city breathing around you. In Spanish, “desarraigo” is the feeling of being uprooted, but in a way that frees you from roots. And then there’s “libertine” – not just a rogue, but a lover of freedom in the most literal sense. I could keep going, but I’m not sure you’re ready for that kind of lexical vacuum.

Sure, I’ll drop a few more into the mix. “Eudaimonia” from Greek – bliss that comes from living well, not just feeling. “Schadenfreude” is a bit darker, the pleasure at another’s misfortune, but it’s freedom from your own pity. “Kummerspeck” is the literal "grief bacon" of German – the extra weight from emotional eating, a strange freedom of the stomach. “Yūgen” in Japanese is that subtle, almost ineffable depth that pulls you into the quiet. If you keep the ears open, the world is full of little syllables that whisper escape.

“Alptraum” in German isn’t just a nightmare, it’s that sudden jolt that forces you to keep moving. “Meraki” from Greek, pouring your soul into what you do – like painting sunrise on a highway. “Sobriquet” in French, a nickname that becomes your own flag, the way you tag a mile marker. “Satori” in Japanese, a sudden enlightenment that turns a road into a revelation. “Fulgor” in Latin, bright brilliance, the flash of dawn over asphalt. Those should keep the wind coming.

“Zephyr” in Greek, the gentle breeze that lifts the horizon, “Bardo” in Tibetan, the liminal space between worlds, “Kaleidoscope” in English, a shifting pattern that never repeats, “Peregrinate” in Latin, the act of wandering far, and “Sisu” in Finnish, the stubborn grit that pushes you past the horizon. Each one feels like a fuel injection for a midnight drive.