existence, such that the present is ever, always, a present contingent on a kind of after-thought. The vigil of which Derrida's text is possessed can only be concerned with after, as a mode of attentiveness; it's mot d'ordre is too late.

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Being Sisyphus     Sisyphus is always already dead. The task of reiteration to which he is assigned offers the certitude of his having been. His presence is thus substitutive: he holds his place. But Sisyphus himself is foregone. The ever displacement of the stone along the incline provides a remarkable calculation of distances and degrees of repetitive strain, but Sisyphus is in effect only ever a