However, it is not merely that some of our statements are approximate. Almost all of them are. «John left the house and went to the office» does not specify by what means he went to the office, whether on foot or by car, nor at what time he left or arrived. «The door is open» does not specify whether the door is ajar, or closed but unlocked. And so on. The reason for this non-precision of statements is that they are composed of words which are themselves non-precise in reference. Except for proper names, no word specifies the precise individual object, action or quality that is being referred to at any given moment.
THE BRIDGE AND THE RIVER Or The Ironies of Communication. GRAHAM DUNSTAN MARTIN. French, Edinburgh
It doesn’t matter how much describing we add. We reach a point in which we get tired of that much. Not a point in which it is impossible to add more. You can always think something else to add. But it gets too long and boring and impossibly understandable.
Language can’t convey the truth. It hides the truth more than anything. Indeed, it is the closest we get to speak the truth. Together with the image [however much the image can’t either tell the truth based on this impossibility to show “everything”].
Do you think what you hide when writing? Pasto kalo.
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