The flux of experience is intentional all the way down, intentional in a fractal manner, each moment subdividing into smaller ones, each a world in itself and bearing no prior relation to its parent or sibling worlds. A sparkling dust of subjective events. The nominally fractal structure of this plurality of micro worlds is not itself a world or world-like in any way. It defies rationality which is why it can be the condition for rationality, while permitting it more flexibility, more degrees of freedom than it would allow itself. None of this chaotic formalism is enough to constitute experience. What it misses is what is pervasive and omnipresent and unable to be captured by any form, namely the very stuff out of which it is sculpted, the warm mercury of nameless living being.