The hypothesis that this book continues to deepen is that we consent to the night because it is devoid of designated witnesses. The bandit acts in the dark hoping that no one will recognize him in court. The poet searches the night for an innocence that he does not find in the day. In a less sublime way, whoever enters the night in order not to sleep escapes for a time the judgments of the rest or that of his own conscience. They watch to no longer be watched. The art of living without a witness also carries obligations: there is a law of the night, less legal than the law of the day, but it is no less demanding for that. To think about the night is to think about the way in which darkness changes our perception, transforms our relationship with others or modifies our experience of time, but always following its own rules. For the author, it is necessary to privilege not the binary opposition between the nocturnal and the diurnal, but the situations in which they enter into a promising conflict. Without that, the day would forget that he is the day of the night that precedes it: there would only be room for a pale transparency in which everyone is ready to be witnesses.