Something liminal exists at the point where it can only just be sensed.
In a life where a hundred different things are constantly shouting for our attention it's easy to ignore the liminal. But what are we missing?
The song of the furthest bird. The pearliest edge of a opaline sky. The hint of aniseed in a piece of chocolate or a glass of wine (you don't suppose the people who write the words for food labels make all that stuff up, do you?).
Explore the liminal. Run your fingers along your computer screen and feel the faint prickle of the electrically-charged dust (if you're using a touch screen then run your fingers down the back of your device or you may suddenly find yourself reading instructions on how to clean carpets, cook cassava, or make friends).
Smell the rain, or the sea, or the hay.
Feel the warmth left in a new loaf. Feel the waxy sheen of a lipstick. Notice the buzz of a shy bee.
Most of all, marvel at how much you missed yesterday, and resolve never to miss it again.
Indian leaf butterfly.
Spot the frippet: something liminal. This word comes from the Latin līmen, which means threshold.