Desire is sometimes an empty space. You in an empty space and an empty space in you. Growing full, growing empty. Trains pull in and out. Arrive and depart. Where and when do you get on? Where and when do you get off? I’m talking about timing. About knowing when and not-when, but also about going where you are supposed to go once you are going there. The ethics of timing is also the beginning of ethics. When Zizek came to teach Avital Ronell’s class last fall, he stated that Hamlet is about the beginning of ethics. But if we relate being to time, and love to time, it’s no longer just the Hamletian to be or not to be. But, when and not-when. Or when to and when not to, which according to Badiou is also where subjecthood begins: “You become a subject to the extent to which you can respond to events.” This includes the event that subjecthood—becoming—is, for, responding is answering, and the way we answer, and don’t answer, has everything to do with who we are, as well as who we are deciding to become and not become. Every moment you are near and far. Every moment you are possible and impossible. There is always a bridge. There is never a bridge. It is too early and it is too late. I am talking about myself and you (X.). These two halves of meaning and being(s) going the distance. That going is love. Going away, coming back, it always just feels like I’m going one way: towards you.