Over the years, I’ve gradually realized that every book I’ve ever read acts like a magnifying glass.

When I reopen certain books, I suddenly notice chapters I never registered before. It’s not that they weren't there; it’s that the person I was back then hadn't yet arrived at the position to see them. Sometimes I’m struck by surprise, other times by a sense of awe. It’s incredible how a single sentence can speak an entirely different truth at a different stage of life.

Language is, by nature, a "reciprocal" entity. It isn't a one-way transmission; it is a continuous process of calibration between the sending and the receiving. As the depth of understanding changes, the width naturally expands. Those seemingly fixed words suddenly begin to flow.

This extends beyond text. Sometimes, in a painting, within the negative space, or in a corner of a composition, I can read layers I once completely overlooked. The work hasn't changed; I finally possess the capacity to see what was meant but left unsaid.

I’ve begun to feel it clearly: the first half of my life felt like casting a net. I watched a lot, traveled far, collected randomly, tried everything, and collided with the unknown. I was uncertain of everything but didn't want to miss a thing.

In the second half, I’ve started to turn back, slowly gathering the net from the same ocean of books and experiences. Those things I once couldn't understand, couldn't remember, or couldn't use are surfacing one by one, automatically aligning and interlocking.

All the nodes are no longer scattered points of knowledge; they are layers upon layers of a grand, superimposed structure. The further I walk in life, the more three-dimensional this structure becomes.

I finally understand: "Understanding" a book isn't about finishing it; it’s about allowing yourself to reach the place where you can understand it.

The first half of life is responsible for opening the world; the second half is responsible for comprehending it. They are not opposites; they are simply different stages of the same net.

And I am now walking slowly along the path of gathering that net.



—— 🎐 XC Scribbles · 壹佰貳拾柒 CXXVII 🕸️