An experience, my experience, experience in the sense of Erlebnisse - if such a thing could be isolated it would be a sort of figure in the flow of lived time, a ripple or a pattern of ripples in subjective space, in a network of such ripples, but not known or understood as such, emerging as a belonging of an assumed self that is also entirely in time, and by that ownership proving the existence of that self, enacting its assumption forwards and without reflection - rather than being the opposite, the experience proved, because positively gained, an Erfahrung, of a self-certainty, known as a contingent mode of a presencing inclusive of its own ground, independent of experience. Most of life seemed to him to consist of the former, ventures at being, curated and fed into endless circuits of visibility, exposure and interrelation so rapid that it seemed to take the place of knowledge, seemed to be the very thing meant by knowledge. There was a void in such life that could only be filled by another gaze, the seeing not seeing until being seen by a gaze itself seen... The self needing to be held aloft in the abyss, certainly not by a great Other, but by a similar self, by a legion of such selves holding each other up, and similar in only one essential respect, that they share in the same repudiation of that Other.