There is always, in every instance, a way it is taken to be, a most general staging of reality, that is both utterly free and inevitably chosen, as if at a point of maximum steepness that you can't help but descend, in a timeless suspension prior to time in every instant. And in every such staging you are not alone in that you are exposed to another gaze, that is, to a world. It's the only way that thoughts can arise, even the most private and intimate of thoughts. When you want to know who you are you seek the ultimate other to define you. The solitude of the subject without an object therefore cannot be conceived, you'd have to give up every world and every way of bringing about a world.