‘“Of what” [is] Being is not “posed.” It is, always, pre-supposed…And the question: “of
what” is thought made, being left unthought.’

Luce Irigaray’s The Forgetting of Air in Martin Heidegger.

To begin with “of,” which in its openness harbors whichever “what” may take provisional place in thought’s spotlight. To be where beginning is, in the preposition that suits it best. Simultaneously grasp and let flap. Placing it. Not taken. A place-taking where the intervention of “of” will always prove too deft for taking. Too agile to be posed. That’s why “of” is “always”: there is no containing what includes. In the beginning there is the of that is the air. Yes. The of of this beginning where being is allowed to present itself is there by dint of its yes. The air is a mouth (no shaped) breathing in and out, its yes the inspiration and conspiracy of action proper to consciousness. But I said allowed. Explanation: this is why the of that is the air is not posed. The of that is the air initiates presence, allows presence to enter phenomenologically into the world. Where does the air stand? Between things? Around them? Answer: the air does not stand, it is not posed. The air allows things to thing. When a thing proposes that which is natural to its being, it does so with the full and unmediated allowance of the air. When the frogs sing, the air carries their songs. When the brook moves, the air parts and bubbles. When the oxen sweat, the air delivers their olfactory parcels. When the strawberry is bitten, air pairs itself in neutral contrast to the meaty sweetness. Everywhere around us the world’s parts are moving. What but the transparency of the air, its invisible and limitless generosity, allows them