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How should I describe myself to you at this moment?You would scarcely be surprised if I told you that I am now at my desk, absorbed in thought.I entertain an idea, consider its shortcomings, play with another, extend its possibilities, and slowly I am moved to write.I try fi tfully to transform these fl eeting states of mind into words, hoping that these pages will allow you, the reader, to understand my thoughts.Doesn't this sound quite reasonable?Consider again: How does this commonplace passage defi ne me as a writer?And in defi ning me, what does it tell us about our conceptions of being human?In important respects, we fi nd here a picture of me as an individual thinker, dwelling in an interior world of consciousness that is all my own.And by implication, isn't this to say that we are each alone in our inner worlds?We have no direct access to each other's thoughts, and it is often diffi cult to translate thoughts into words.It is a world in which you can never plumb the depths of my mind; you will never fully understand me.And too, your private world will always be a mystery to me.In effect, this common account is one that defi nes us in terms of alienated beings."So what," you may respond."It is simply a fact that we are separate individuals, each living in a private consciousness.That's just life."Or is it?If we accept this view of ourselves as bounded beings, the essential "me" dwelling behind the eyeballs, then we must continuously confront issues of separation.I must always be on guard, lest others see the faults in my