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Breast milk to RAW

It keeps coming up, in the books I am reading (The Patterning Instinct by Jeremy Lent), the films I am watching (Arrival by Denis Villeneuve (dir), above), the same theme in different guises: the language you speak shapes the way you think, the way you see the world: our eyes have mother-tongue filters, our vision is breast-milk clouded. Which begs the question: what chance of glimpsing the world RAW*, no compression, no processing? What chance of removing the chalk-coloured filters over my eyes? What chance of finding a refreshed vision, a post-brexit perspective, one with which I can once again feel grounded?

Where to start? No place like home, the chalklands of the southeast: Surface Tensions[*In digital photography, the RAW format is that with the least processing, as close to the pure digital data as possible]

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