What name to give it, the event, all this? Rich and without boundaries since anything that could divide it is either already in it -  in which case its division is only provisional; separate at the front but joined up at the back - or else it comes from the outside (and maybe it does), but is only known, can only have an effect, as a mode of the same. So, provisionally, the this-worldly and the other-worldly, the thinker and his world, the map and the territory (which must be kept apart) but where the territory is map and the map territory. And what am I but a near-field, a body, provocation and desire, the wish and the failure of the map to extend over itself? The outside is a figure of bodily feeling, because it, the body, is both the absolute locus of inwardness and exposed at every point to material contingency. The most intimate senses, taste and smell and sexualised touch, and hearing too, but not always, are those in which otherness strikes through most clearly. Or perhaps it is that what seems otherness is in the mind of these senses, as if they each had their own brain which we had learned to trust, and from which we learned all we know about contingency. One can be familiar with all there is to be known about a receiver but have no inkling of what it might receive, but the mind is not like this, it is not the receiver but the receiving, information processing information, no separation between data and program, formation and information, information and ex-formation.