I write to preserve. But preservation is not a dry and dead archiving. Deep down, it is about endless memories, boundless memories that would not necessarily constitute a philosophical or literary work, but simply a great repetition.

What I admire in philosophers, what interests me more than in others ultimately, is that they attempt to construct the most economical structures for repetition. They position themselves at that point of discourse where one has the greatest dominion over language, over language as an act of memory, the entirety of memory in advance, which allows them to systematically standardize in an economical way the maximum amount of things one can say or think.

In this sense, for me, the philosopher is above all a guardian of memory; someone who questions truth, being, language, in order to preserve, between truth and preservation.

Truth is preservation; it is what allows one to preserve, to be preserved. Thus, the philosopher is a guardian, in the noblest sense of the term; not merely a guardian of the institution or a guard dog, but the guardian of truth, the guardian of that which is preserved, of the desire for preservation.

[Excerpt from the text on the back cover of the edition]