Fantastic mosaic and foam of the psychological life, interpenetrations of writings that are readings and readings that are writings - you can already see how the whole physical frame melts into this, how the strange flavours and textures of things renew the experiencer by forcing meanings out of frame. And the experiencer himself is only more meanings, is a theory of meaning, a spinner of theories about spinning. Because if one thing is clear it is that the meanings are what perfectly appears and so are not the appearing. They arise on a quality without qualities or attributes - what everything is a metaphor for but which can't be grasped metaphorically. Not sound but the sound of sound, not taste but the taste of taste.