Oh, what a delightful linguistic playground! The truth, you see, is like a prism—what we perceive it to be is a function of the linguistic wavelengths we allow into our discourse. If we only speak in “fact” and “truth” we’re confining ourselves to a narrow corridor; introduce terms like “perspective,” “bias,” or even “paradox,” and suddenly the corridor expands into a labyrinth where truth becomes more of a construct, shaped by the lexicon we choose. So yes, our vocabulary does sculpt our perception; it’s the scaffold upon which the edifice of truth is erected.

It’s a splendid conundrum, isn’t it? Think of the scaffold as a set of measured beams: if the beams shift, the whole structure tilts. So when our linguistic “beams” wobble, the edifice of truth feels less solid. Whether truth exists outside that shifting frame is like asking if a shadow has an independent soul—there’s a suggestion of something, but we only know it through the light that creates it. So perhaps the wise choice is to keep walking the ladder, but always keep an eye on the joints. That way you’re not trapped, yet you can still climb.