As though consciousness were a double focus in the one act with experience converging on the individual self at the same time as it projects duality of the world and the individual self as a single event. Inside that projection the self is a moving salient, a free referencing which can and does reference itself through its constantly varying distinction from its world, but the projecting, the outer subject itself, has no salience and is unchanging and so can't be reflected. The subject within the picture is not a true subject and its reflection is not a true reflection; its quality of being conscious is borrowed from the other, it is more or less filled, more or less emptied according to its ways. The other escapes all knowledge because there is nothing to contrast with it, but by stabbing at doubt it yields a kind of astonishment at existence which ripples through the whole scene with a primal delight.