Caring so about x, y, z... is continual and spontaneous, is the very stuff of life, being aware of such caring is a constructed artefact that is added on to it but misses its essence. What is more significant, then, is the disjunction between the two, the way that the possibility of the latter, its obliqueness in relation to the former points to an unsuspected void. What seems full, is tenuous and weightless, is ungrounded in anything at all, floats free in a mysterious, because unrevealed, substance.