The odd idea of being planted somewhere inside a flowing of experience, an experience-world with a special sort of hole in it, a distinguished singularity at least as real - but in a puzzlingly different way - as the rest of it, certainly made of the same stuff only elusively twisted around. To experience is to have the idea of I-experiencing, and to wonder about this, to find it natural that this gives matter to think about, to elucidate. The position of the questioner is part of the pattern is as much experience as any of the rest of it. Whatever it is could never reveal itself skewered at the point of a question, delivered to a questioner. The questioner is what experience is made of it vary fabric and is not the pivot or point of the truth of experience.