The Present (n.) is never primal; it is reconstituted after the fact, and before recurrence it is only the call for a footnote.
The Present (n.) is constituted by its relation to what it is not: not a past or a future, but what it absolutely is not.
Present (n.) becomes the sign of the sign, the trace of the trace; it is no longer what every reference refers to.
Present (n.) has never been put into question from Parmenides to Husserl; it is what is self-evident itself.
The Present (n.) is no longer a mother-form around which the future and the past are gathered.
The Present (n.) does not exist, and whoever calls himself his own contemporary is masking a gap.
The Present (n.) is never the present of a statement: even the apparently present sentence is plunged by the imperfect into another text.
The Present (n.) is never contemporary with itself; it lingers only in the passage between what goes and what comes.