In a letter to Roger Laporte dated September 24, 1966, Maurice Blanchot describes his scène primitive as the experience of a depopulated sky, confronting an infinity, which he outlines as an empty infinity: “I was a child, seven or eight years old, I was in an isolated house, near the closed window, I looked outside—and at once, nothing could be more sudden, it was as though the sky opened, opened infinitely toward the infinite, inviting me with this overwhelming moment of opening to acknowledge the infinite, but the infinitely empty infinite. The consequence was estranging. The sudden and absolute emptiness of the sky, not visible, not dark—emptiness of God: that was explicit, and therein it far exceeded the mere reference to the divine—surprised the child with such delight, and such joy, that for a moment he was full of tears, and—I add, anxious for the truth—I believe they were his last tears.” Emptiness of the sky. Emptiness of the absolute. Infinite emptiness that marks the here and now of the one world, its truth unfounded in any other truth. World without superiority. Nothing but this nothing-but-truth, but this lack of meaning. Truth is one name of this withdrawal of meaning. Not even non-meaning can escape the economy of an abundance whose negative complement it remains. The emptiness, however, refers to the inconsistency of the logic of both meaning and non-meaning. It indicates a threshold which no non-meaning is able to absorb. Blanchot has given it the name of the outside (“dehors”), of which Deleuze says that it is “farther away than any form exteriority”.