He played with the possibilities that remained, seeking to do something with them, to make something new out of them, or to find something long overlooked. The quality, the contents, the filling of the moments mattered little. Perhaps it was a matter of assembling them by another sort of logic, a different form of necessity or causality which would explode the previous one. He was looking for something, but felt that he'd already looked everywhere. He tried to believe that the knowing that nothing after all was to be found was enough, was the dead-end from which he could only turn the seeking back on the seeker. Experience was endless and what he knew of it was little enough, but in the light he cast on it it was strictly limited, and able to be exhausted. And then only the light would remain, invisible in the darkness. Whatever it was, it never got old and was outside of all content and modality of content.