If, throughout my life and work, I have chosen to concentrate so much on the Atlantic coast, it is for several reasons. First of all, I take « seaboard » to be particularly significant space. We are close there to the beginnings of life, we cannot but be aware there of primordial rhythms (tidal, meteorological). In that space, too, we have one foot, as it were, in humanity (inhabited, inscribed, coded space), the other, in the non-human cosmos (chaos-cosmos, chaosmos) — and I think it is vitally important to keep that dialogue alive. It may be for reasons similar to those I have just evoked that in a text belonging to the tradition which I perhaps bear in my bones, an old Celtic text, Imacallam in da thuarad (The Talk of the Two Scholars), we read : « The shore was always a place of predilection for the poets. » Then, in the second place, I was born and raised on that Atlantic shore of Europe, more particularly, on the West coast of Scotland, and I have its topography imprinted on my mind. I’m far from thinking that a poet’s original landscape necessarily dictates his mindscape : if his intellect be at all energetic, he may well come to decide, beyond any « homeland » fixation, that others are more interesting — but that West coast of Scotland happens in fact to be interesting, extremely so. As Humboldt points out in Cosmos, what largely started up and quickened Greek thought was the topography of Hellas : the multiplicity of headlands and islands, the profusion of creeks and bays. Well, that West Coast of Scotland with its highly irregular outline and its 500 islands has a similar kind of topography, though, up to now, one can hardly say it has given rise to a comparably complex thought (but there have been beginnings, the potentiality is always there — that is what I have been working at). Lastly, now that we are beginning to hear again of the concept « Europe », I think it will be as well for it to look to its West, not only as to a breathing space, but as the locus (topos) of forgotten movements and perhaps a new type of thought, a new sense of culture, a new sense of logos. Perhaps Europe has been too Mediterranean-oriented. But the greatest blockage does not lie there — for from the Mediterranean, one can move out into the Atlantic, as the Phœniciens did, as Pytheas did. No, the greatest blockage lies in the ideology of national(ist) identity and in the intellectual regression to culture-complexes that were productive of those identities, which may be looked to as « havens of stability » in a time of cosmopolitan confusion, but which in fact can be no more than half-way houses full of internal dispute, mere parliamentary discourse and pathetic poetics.