[kieckerjan]

I like the Wittgensteinian image of language as an old city shared by thousands (millions) of people. In its center a large common square that is used by everybody, and radiating away from that roads less traveled. Some of the streets and squares on the outskirts are never visited or seen by most of the city's inhabitants but can still be very lively. These squares are the jargons of a language: heavily used by the practitioners of a craft or trade and chock full of interesting specialized words that can be very expressive and very old (especially if the craft is an old one, like masonry or shipping).

Personally, I revel in these words, even if I never get to use them. Coming across a specialized term for something that was previously nameless feels like receiving a present, something to treasure.

[alexpetralia]

What is perhaps also interesting is that nearby cities can use the same language with entirely different histories, nuances and meanings.

This in fact explains why so many groups fail to communicate clearly!