Tempestuous moods that set him against the world were also what tied him most to it, or to his idea of the world. Every motive he found which could be traced back some way into its origins was either to affect his perception of the world's perception of himself or his perception of his perception of the world in itself. Pathways that appeared to be reflexive thus always took a detour through an otherness that was recalcitrant, representative of the outside and yet wholly imaginary. If there was some solace in spinning out theories about this auto-contamination and its essential disquiet, it was that they gave him yet another mode in which to feel a quiet solidarity with yet another imaginary quarter of the world. But there were some solidarities that he had no desire to question, that he was far more at ease with than he was with himself. His love had its boundaries although he was unable to draw them, and there were things he wholeheartedly affirmed without caring why.