Ester Wierzchucka

Part of The Psithur Project

What does your name taste like?

In this week’s author focus, Ester Wierzchucka describes how her synaesthesia influences her writing.

Esi’s short story, Bet Olam, will appear in Pynewood’s forthcoming collection, The Psithur Project (January 2027), which explores the relationship between sound and narrative.

People often ask me about my synaesthesia like it’s a little game:
‘What does my name taste like?’ In those moments, I answer with a question: what does your name taste like to you? Dig, or feel a little deeper, and you'll find you carry your own lexical gastronomy.

Since childhood, I have experienced lexical–gustatory synaesthesia. In layman's terms, that means a neurological condition in which words or sounds trigger physical sensations, affecting 1 in 500 of the general population. Synaesthesia associated with colours is much better known, as in the case of Arthur Rimbaud. But for me, every word and sound, regardless of the language, has its own, very individual taste. Different words can taste like different strawberries, even if they belong to the same category. 

My earliest memory of this sensory awareness goes back to when my father read Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale, 'The Tinderbox,' to me. Under my breath, I would repeat the words that were particularly 'tasty' to me.

When writing, I try not to overload my sentences with words simply because they evoke pleasant sensory impressions, even when those words are arbitrary or serve no particular narrative purpose. At the same time, this is creatively very helpful. I experience this particularly strongly when listening to music as I write; certain sounds and words evoke specific tastes, shaping the atmosphere and influencing my choice of language.

Because of this, writing reminds me a little of cooking: constructing a sentence is like starting with a recipe, combining the ingredients, adding seasoning, tasting them to see what it lacks and what is overpowering, and finally, serving. A good text, like a good dish, should not consist entirely of what is sweet. Sometimes bitterness is necessary; it adds something to disrupt the pleasure. 

Next time you say or write your name, focus on how it tastes. Maybe it'll become a new way to help you write your buffets.

—Ester

In the next few weeks, Pynewood will publish a long-form feature by Esi exploring her writing process and its relationship to her synaesthesia.