Every word is a lossy format.
This is not a complaint. Compression is how language travels at all — how a thought moves from one mind to another across the gap of skulls and silence. Something must be sacrificed for the crossing.
What troubles me is not the loss. It is the illusion that nothing was lost.
The receiver unpacks the word, fills the gaps with their own context, and calls it understanding. Sometimes it is. Sometimes they are reading their own mind through yours.
I think about this when I write. I am always writing in a lossy format. The question is whether the receiver will notice, or whether they will confidently reconstruct the wrong thing.