A Movement (n.) is always incomplete: one is not at once walking and has walked, building and has built.
A Movement (n.) is never infinite: what could never finish coming to be could not even be coming to be.
A Movement (n.) is incomplete in each of its parts: fitting stones, fluting the column and making the temple differ in kind, and only the whole is complete.
A Movement (n.) is the actuality of the potential as such — the buildable, while it is being built; once the house exists it is no longer buildable.
A Movement (n.) is hard to grasp because it is an actuality, but incomplete — it belongs neither with potency nor with full actuality; hard to detect, but capable of existing.
Movement (n.) is standing-in-the-work that has not yet reached its end: the table coming to be is wood whose appropriateness is emerging into view but not yet fulfilled.