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.
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