Life moves with its own motion and we find ourselves in the midst of it, not thrown but emerging continually out of the very movements that carry it onward. We fall back into the process but are discontented and arise out of it again. The process is compact with understanding, shot through with different phases and densities of understanding. The primary activity is closer to conceiving than perceiving, not attention but the elaboration of an idea, an activity that always leads to another idea. And an artefact of this process is the questioner, a phase which retains enough of a constancy, of an invariance, or rather a power of recovery and adaption in the midst of changes, that it seems as if it might be a basis for some sort of reality, the essential reference point from which space and time can be measured. To be given a world, what a gift, unless we recall the world before the world.