Periods of opacity unaccountably follow on from and are followed by periods of transparency but the one who finds himself in these successively seems to stay the same even as he finds himself unable to comprehend his own memories and conclusions from former times. In obscurity shadows descend over the connections, the very modes of connection of things, meaning that things taken as identical resemble themselves only in name. In transparency you intimate or even see the relations between things, which dissolves their materiality, and even that of the constitutive relations which dissolve in turn into relations of relations, so that the very provenance of words, their metaphysical etymology, is exposed without paradox. The philosophies belonging to these different regimes are untranslateable between them, they have different logics, different rhetorics. It is like saying that the philosophy of Summer bears no resemblance to the philosophy of Winter, or that of evening to that of morning, and more that they are mutually irrelevant. You, the subject fail to be definable in either of them, but in different ways, which is bedeviling because this failure can never be accepted or resolved in the terms in which it presents itself and nags at you for solution, urges you to look elsewhere, to the past or the future say, to nascent certainties or the cool rush of their implosion.