A quiet record of language, weather, and obsession.
Reading Wuthering Heights feels less like progressing through a story and more like walking into weather. The novel does not invite; it exposes. The language is dense, sometimes unforgiving, full of words that feel shaped by wind and stone rather than conversation.
At first, the unfamiliar vocabulary slowed me down. Then it changed me. I stopped trying to rush through the sentences and began to treat each unknown word as a landmark, something placed deliberately in the landscape.
The difficulty was not an obstacle. It was the terrain.
Rather than constantly reaching for a dictionary and breaking the spell of the book, I started collecting words. Not to master them immediately, but to live with them. To let them surface again later, out of context, like a memory.
This small JavaScript tool became part of that ritual.
This page is not a study guide. It is a footprint. A record of slowing down, of letting language resist me, and of building small tools to meet that resistance with patience rather than frustration.