A theory is psychoanalytic because it speaks of and to the unconscious. This book has been developed from the notion—and in part the action—of analysis itself. It's reasonable to consider that it not only speaks of the unconscious but also provides an opportunity for that same unconscious to express itself in the register of the writer and, perhaps, of the reader. In that sense, this book is in itself a narrative and also a beach, at times more rugged, at others flatter, that unfolds the narrative of a critical account. Sometimes it alludes to historical scenes, and at other times it attempts to theorize based on what is seen in those scenes. Sometimes it balances the historical and the conceptual, and at other times it creates an imbalance, opening up the possibility of one's own or another's critical interpretation. Such is the spirit of these texts, given that when a psychoanalyst speaks or writes about the profession, while they have not lost the possibility of their own interpretation, this has shifted to the listener or reader. The foundation of analysis itself, when it seeks to overcome the autoerotic circles within which it revolves, lies in the recognition and reference of the other; not necessarily as an interpreter, but as a presence that encourages questioning.