There is a thing you do that you think of as turning attention inward which provides your primary reference point for the sense of being a self in its world. These actions are amazingly naive considering all the efforts you have put into inquiring into this process. Attention goes to inner-body sensation, to breathing, to the feeling inside the head, to the space imagined behind the eyes and in which the inner monologue seems to be located. The point of view from which the observer you are seems to look is always a little way behind you and perhaps somewhat to the right almost as if it could whisper in your right ear. What is so naive is the presumption that you can immediately locate, or localise in a space half physical and half ideal, the very context of self-reference, the first approaches to revealing the subject. It is as if you were to say, 'This is where I must start to look, it is the place where I was just a moment ago.' All of this is just chasing your own tail, it is no more sophisticated than that. Before it is reflective it is an immediacy, as if of course you would know, but all of the assumptions that you make are concealed within this presumption of immediacy, of naturalness. It is right there that you have to plunge the wedge of 'I don't know' as deeply as you can.