I would not understand. There is no way to really understand what you are doing and thinking inside your monad. We are like ships, sailing on the high seas, from time to time waving flag signals to one another.
We would like to think that we speak the same language, and at times we know that we use the same set of flags. Still, some things have happened, and give us pause. More than once, we waved the flags in greetings (see the merry mariners on the deck ! friendliness in their eyes, and the captain himself is wearing dress uniform) and the other ship fired a warning shot. We have seen ships sink and lie full fathom five, and we are none the wiser for that.

Interpret. We can do that, we can only do that. The Admiralty Lords do not send messages any more.

Wouldn't we love to disembark, meet other crews, embrace, feel the new living flesh and press our bodies against others on some tropical island - we have heard so much about those blessed lands of the Tropic were the air is warm and the water cures the wounds of the traveller. We would, if we could, maybe at some time we could, but we can't now.
Long ago we stopped seeing islands.
The only way, now, would be to accept the terrible grappling hook that someone calls love. Permit the intrusion of the Other. And what if it were a Pirate ? Nay, it would most certainly be a pirate.

Navigator, hark: steer clear of other vessels. Cannonier: keep the culverines loaded, even in the storm, even in the night. Mariners: clean the sabers, for they will see use.