live
lɪv
What piles up while the breathing goes on
The picture While the breathing goes on, the marks of a life pile up in one place. LIVE is breath going on and marks piling up; DIE is that breath cut in one stroke.
Where the picture shows up in live
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you have your place there
I live near the station.
aɪ lɪv nɪr ðə ˈsteɪʃn
My place is by the station.
The same alley is walked and the same door pushed open every single day
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the breathing goes on
My grandfather lived to ninety.
maɪ ˈɡrænfɑːðər lɪvd tə ˈnaɪnti
My grandfather reached ninety.
A candle burns down a long way and sinks out at the ninetieth mark on its side
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this is how days are spent
They live very simply.
ðeɪ lɪv ˈveri ˈsɪmpli
They keep a very plain life.
A room holding four objects, and a whole day filled from only those
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sharing one home
I live with my older sister.
aɪ lɪv wɪð maɪ ˈoʊldər ˈsɪstər
I share a place with my older sister.
Two rice bowls set side by side in one kitchen, every evening
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this is what feeds you
She lives on her pension.
ʃiː lɪvz ɑːn hər ˈpenʃn
Her pension is what she gets by on.
One monthly line of money is split into a few envelopes and stretched across the month
All of it in one picture
Live is one picture: breath going on while marks pile up in a place. The same alley walked and the same door opened every day is living near the station; a candle burning to the ninetieth mark is living to ninety. Filling a day from a room with four things in it is living simply, and two bowls set out in one kitchen is living together. Splitting one monthly line of money into envelopes is living on a pension.