Resource
We drift across the surface like specks of dust stuck to a gigantic eye — a glossy rotundity on which truth and opinion hang suspended across the horizon like the skin of a drum. Wherever we find ourselves is always already traversed from every direction. The history of these crossings hangs heavy in the awful stillness of the moment.1
Footnotes
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Cf. Derrida’s treatment of Husserl’s ἐποχή (epoché) e.g. his critique of Ideas in Voice and Phenomenon and countless occasions thereafter. See also Stiegler’s numerous formulations of the epoché in Technics and Time and other works. Cf. Moby Dick chapter 39 “The Castaway” for a particularly striking depiction of what we might call the vertigo of the surface. Cf. Heidegger’s concept of ‘Befindlichkeit’ (Being and Time (Division One )) as well as Nietzsche’s “On the Vision and the Riddle” (Thus Spake Zarathustra) ↩