“True philosophy consists in relearning to look at the world” (PP, xxiii). Merleau-Ponty teaches us to inhabit the ambiguities of body and perception; his oeuvre unfolds as an inexhaustible description of the phenomenal world. He is acutely aware of the “paradox” involved in bringing things into language, whose internal architecture cannot be clarified unless it is taken up in its complexity and followed through the unfolding of its articulations. This paradox, however, should not be read as an insurmountable obstacle to our access to the sensible-perceptual dimension: pain, for instance, needs no words in order to be felt. That language entails a dimension of interiority does not mean that it is sealed off or self-enclosed: “it is the subject’s taking up of a position in the world of his meanings” (PP, 225).