Started reading 'Turtles all the way down'. This paragraph literally shook me.

" When observation fails to align with a truth- your senses or your truth? The Greeks didn't even have a word for blue. The colours didn't exist to them. Couldn't see it without a word for it.
I think about her all the time. My stomach flips when I see her. But is it love, or just something we don't have a word for?

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