I am watching Robert Bresson's A Man Escaped, in a cinema in Buffalo NY. It is the tortuous sequence in which the central character, a captive French resistance fighter, makes his way along the roof of the prison barracks, completing the sequence of his minutely plotted get-away. He steps steadily, slowly, in thick socks, carrying his shoes so as not to be heard. The sequence unfolds second by pained second, marking time as tension. For a moment I adjust my sitting position in the auditorium, and am alarmed to feel my toes meeting the resistance of shoes. I had thought I was shoeless. In that bodily coupling, or doubling even, what had marked the borders of my body in distinction to the virtual bodies of, and on, the screen? What is the nature of a thought that is at once brain, screen and world?