Reminds me of somenting I read in some translator's introduction to Sartre's Being and Nothingness (I never got past the intro, sadly – philospohy interests me but “Philisophese” makes my eyes glaze over)…we can witness ourselves witnessing, and we can witness ourselves witnessing ourselves witnessing, and so on for eternity, but there's always something behind it, your real consciousness. In a world that so often maes us feel small, that's huge.