It's very funny really. You are a process full of interesting turnings and entirely devoid of the depth suggested by the idea of self-reflection. It is a weird kind of illusion, a refraction really that installs a virtual centre to the presentification, and the thoughts revolve on themselves and in them the idea reigns that it turns on this intended and intending centre, and so the meanings taken up with rays that seem to splay out, fantastically interdependent webs of meaning and intention, but really all quite flat. And when it turns it takes the whole weird structure with it. That's the only way it could get to be so rich it seems, if it were really how it thinks it is it would deflate in a matter of minutes.