In a random spread of things we see a face turned towards us, a face we recognise from some irrecoverable branching of the past. It was our past because it reminds us of home. Once we have seen that the sense of past is equivalent to the sense of home then there is nothing problematic in the idea of the past branching as well as the future. The randomness is perceived in perturbed repetitions or symmetries. We see this in the fascination with fire and with waves, with landscapes and clouds. The same phenomenon exists in caresses. The presence of the other felt in a caress, or our presence to the other imagined as expressed in our own caresses, results from a delicate pattern of variations on repetition which require a vocabulary of anticipations, transitions, acknowledgements, elicitings, withholdings and so on, in short the lexicon of music and of expressive subjectivity. It appears to be a communication, or more precisely a transmission, but in order to be validated as such we would need simultaneous access to two subjectivities. There is only every one, but there are such dramatic alterations brought about by arousal that the illusion is unbreakable. But then there is also that odd sense of home, being brought home, and why should not the distinction between self and other be entirely undone there?