The truth of things, of you, surely exists, and what you are is limited so that you can never know it or be in authentic relation to it - and surely that is part, a small part of your truth, your frustrated need to get to it, to get out of yourself. On the other hand, I am not so limited, no one can say what my limits, if any, are, only that they extend far beyond you. For you, I am something you possess, you might call it self-consciousness. You give it a name that is a paradox, you map it as a singularity in your field, you think of it with the culturally determined tools at your disposal, according to the fashion of the moment, you think yourself with the world. I only know myself as you, when knowing myself is at issue, but my truth is not limited to any knowing, to any world.