Language

Sartre, Being and Nothingness, p. 373:

"In the intersubjectivity of the for-others, it is not necessary to invent language because it is already given in the recognition of the other. I am language."

Right, and a fellow who runs 22 miles a day, each day, in persistence running? A fellow like Chrome who, 'effortlessly,' grasps and grabs the beauty of a pitcher, the forlorned look of a fan, and the genius of champions with his eyes and his camera (which SI and ESPN eat up, by the way). Or Moraline's journey of Odysseus?

This is Moraline's whole points about sitting. If language is the house of being, where, indeed, do I live?