The philosopher Jane Bennett noted that matter is vibrant—everyday detritus, even trash in the gutter, can emit its own vibe that capitalist consumerism encourages us to ignore. The year’s most poignant piece of trash was a wrinkled face mask, paper or cloth, left strewn on the ground, its strings tangled, its symbolic hygiene demolished. There’s an abjectness to the mask; it’s the kind of detail a future movie would pan past in order to evoke the time period’s general despair.

“Liminal Spaces” VibesOffice-building hallway. Dead-end street. Loading dock. Nighttime hotel atrium. @SpaceLiminalBot is a Twitter account with more than four hundred and eighty thousand followers that tweets photos of “liminal spaces”: disused, off-hours, haunted. The mood is spooky but also calm; in these spaces, nothing happens. By definition, “liminal” means “transitional,” a threshold. (What qualifies, exactly, is hotly debated on the r/LiminalSpace subreddit.) But it became a meme in 2021, the year of liminality, its meaning expanded to describe pretty much anything empty and weird. Examples of liminal vibes include the Twitter account @gameauras, which collects “video game images with elegiac auras” and tweets screenshots of virtual liminal spaces, and the TikTok account @pineacre, which films montages of mundane institutions (laundromats, grocery stores) in the Arkansas Ozarks.

There is no better reminder of the combination of convenience and ennui of working from home than a mug of coffee going cold. You get up to microwave it, then repeat the process thirty minutes later. Even the mug seems exhausted.