He considered his life, as primarily life and not as his. Life in this sense being a concept prior to any other reflexive concept he could discover. He was after all as much life as anyone else, and being with anyone else it was natural to see life playing out a tiny segment of its myriad possibilities and plural necessities in what seemed at first to be just their own game. They were both held in the now, but the now seemed merely the face of something more elusive, mistakenly taken to be determined by a line from past to future, or future to past. He wondered what that other dimension could be, but could find only hints, traces, bedevilling suggestions.