ABSTRACT
I will only make a few observations. I will have, and I would have, difficulty in identifying the place from which they will have been made. This is not, I presume, the place of knowledge of presumed knowledge. For I know nothing about what I have to say. Nor do I know anything of this love of knowledge and wisdom with which the Greeks have infected us under the name of philosophy. For it seems to me that I have only ever loved what will not let itself be known or what will not create wisdom in the common way. Perhaps these remarks will not even have been made from a place. In any case, not a named locality. And not a Utopia either. I would prefer to grant it the privilege of the real. Let us leave its name, its label, in suspense.
