On the horizon of this chapter, a question: What does it mean to “accompany” Derrida? If the task of a companion volume is to offer guidance or paths for an eventual accompaniment, or if it is even to be a form of accompaniment, then those who participate in such an effort must surely pause along the way to ask about the nature and conditions of such an undertaking. What acts (of reading, of writing, or of speech) constitute “accompaniment,” presuming that this is even possible? In general: What is it to accompany, in thought, and who accompanies? More specifically, who accompanies Derrida? If it were a matter of simple “expertise,” then little problem would exist; the task for the guide would be clearly indicated, and the nature of “following” would be evident. But any “expert,” even any casual reader of Derrida will know that accompaniment cannot be so unproblematic a notion. Indeed, any reader who has attended to Derrida's meditations on friendship and the ethical relation (in the sense of the term he takes from Levinas) will know that joining Derrida on the the path of his thinking means something very different from “following.” They will hardly be surprised, for example, at the way Derrida recoils, in a recent volume, at the thought of a traveling companion.