On language and thought
I sometimes wonder how life might have unfolded differently if I had made other choices.
In this version, I stayed in Ukraine, but instead of finance, I was drawn to languages. It started simply, growing up with Russian, then Ukrainian, later English, but at some point it became more than communication. It became a way of understanding how people think.
There is a phrase often attributed to Charlemagne: “To have another language is to possess a second soul.” At first, it sounds poetic. But the more languages you learn, the more it starts to feel literal.
Each language carries its own rhythm, its own logic, even its own emotional range. Some things are easier to say in one language than another. Some ideas feel sharper, or softer, or more precise depending on the words available.
Over time, you begin to notice that you are not exactly the same person in each language. Not a different identity, but a slightly different version of yourself. That realization stayed with me.
How languages relate
My interest gradually shifted from learning languages to understanding how they connect to each other.
Maps like the lexical distance diagrams of European languages fascinated me, especially the work of Ukrainian linguist Kostiantyn Tyshchenko. They show languages not as isolated systems, but as part of a larger structure, with distance, similarity, and shared roots.
You start to see patterns. Clusters of Romance languages. The tight connections within Slavic languages. Unexpected bridges between groups.
It begins to feel less like memorizing vocabulary, and more like navigating a landscape.
Language and the structure of thought
Does language shape the way we think? Or does it simply reflect how we already think?
Is language a tool we use to express thoughts, or a system that helps generate them?
Sometimes it feels like a program the brain runs, organizing raw perception into something structured and communicable. Other times, it feels like language is too high in the stack to define thought itself, more like an interface than a foundation.
I don’t think there is a simple answer. But the question itself is worth staying with.
Lexical maps and linguistic relationships
One reason I enjoy linguistic maps is that they make language families visible. You can see proximity, separation, and unexpected relationships at a glance. They turn something abstract into a landscape you can study with your eyes.
Some maps are analytical. Others are handmade and intuitive. Both reveal something important: language is never just a list of words. It is geography, inheritance, contact, and history made visible.
Lexical distance
A visual way of seeing how near or far languages stand from one another, not only historically but in lived comprehension.
Tyshchenko’s hand-drawn map
The work of Kostiantyn Tyshchenko makes language feel less like a table of categories and more like a world of relationships, crossings, and cultural memory.
