Being born is being subject to an irresistible force that is aimed at you and is structured by a definite but unknown agenda. You have no relationship to it, you can only surrender or surrender to being forced to surrender. Later on you seek to confer a face, a personality, intentions, and limits to such events which nevertheless continue to interrupt your sweet otium. You gain a certain mastery over what happens, with the help of many prosthetics, and then you progressively lose that mastery. In the end it becomes clear that the original situation never went away. You are lived.