There is no thing, no object like reality, that is your thought and feeling, the marrow of experience in any moment, but there is also nothing to stop it being viewed that way, in which case the term qualia might apply, as instances of something definable, measurable, classifiable as to genus and species etc and with a certain rank, in short an entirely social phenomenon. The aesthetic transformation of raw experience takes it down the opposite path, relatively of pure solipsism, in which case the same event belongs to your own sweet nature, what qualities it has being declensions of the hidden name of the self. Paradoxically this is the only form in which it can be effectively communicated.