The strange logic of the self - that the part is the whole. Everything hinges on the modality of this 'is' which can't be delimited in any way. It is so because you are the thought that the boundary of the self can be delineated - but only with the kind of reversible thought that unthinks itself in the very same act. Sometimes the word love refers to this phenomenology, like an apparently limited category that also proves to be the universal category - and here everything hinges on how it 'proves'. For example, the 'phenomenon' is always 'this', an invariable structure apparently filled by differing contents. The structure, which is you as identity, is like the spiral of an infinite seashell that rejoins itself in an unknown dimension so that the way out is also the way from. Your seeming to experience is the view from one point and behind it the subject lies curled up, infinitely potent but concealed from view and out in front a prospect is framed in ever larger prospects out to and beyond the limit of vision. The phenomenon is just this but is absolutely inclusive of that as well; it takes in everything that only seems peripheral or contingent, it embraces its conditions to the final degree. The spiral is a version of parallel lines where what seems to meet never actually meets as you follow it through, as if there really was a difference between in and out.