The universe gives us a wave; we give it a name.

Light is not red until we say it is.

What we call color is a human boundary drawn across an endless field. 

We are not just receivers of sight, but authors of its limits.

The act of seeing is a subtle violence, collapsing infinite potential into a single, usable truth. 

And in that moment, we create a world that is less than it could be. 

The filter is the awareness, or a big part of it.

So maybe it could have said "The spectrum is endless, until the eye filters a color."

Not every observation leads to awareness, but a special kind does.

In the strange, self-referential loop of a conscious mind, new sense data collides with represented sense data.

It is in this specific feedback, this creative collision, that the infinite flux of light collapses into a singular, subjective quale: the experience of red.

We are not merely receivers of information, but authors of its most profound meaning.

Consciousness is not a mirror reflecting the world, but a filter that gives it a name, and in doing so, gives birth to the self.