It is a peculiarity of the phenomenal reality that it contains the seeds of its own undoing. There is an unadaptive drive to get at the truth, to extrapolate along lines already firmly established in appearance which push it further and further into crisis. You can find such a path and attempt to follow it, to see where it leads, but you will inevitably swerve away from the line. The further you go along it the fiercer the interference, the easier it is to confuse the goal with something else superficially similar. You grasp at something finally in reach and it takes you back to where you started. The illusion of escape from phenomenality is just as much a part of phenomenality as its possibility. As if appearance is a reduction in dimension of a reality whose dimensionality is intrinsic. It is the very same reality but now it doesn't add up, in every mode of understanding it makes sense locally but not globally. You ought to stop worrying at it, but you can't, there is something you know which you don't know, something you don't know which you know. You are constrained to look from a point inside the pattern, but you aren't actually inside the pattern at all, there isn't even a pattern, the pattern is you, and so is the constraint.