In the end, we fail at the level of the banal, W. says, that's the truth of it. It's not about our ideas, or whether we can think, but about forgetting what building we're staying in, or locking ourselves out of our rooms. We're incompetent in this general sense before being incompetent about anything to do with our thought, we should admit that. How can we sit down at a table and begin to think when we cannot find our rooms, let alone our buildings? How can we begin to read and write if we've lost our keys?
Lars Iyer's Blog 