Since words are found rolled into one, since images condense, since stories collect, the act of writing is not removed from the writing of ideas that surface, of connections that open up, and of observations that become vivid. Literary writing and what is observing pervade one another. Literature makes demands different to philosophy — or music — but writing meanders in its own distinct searching and shaping. The nature of these multiple voices is revealed more slowly than their presentation in any one subject — solely as one author or philosopher — but this character lives in me, as a need, and is revealed here from the perspective of observing art.