I studied Sartre (for a while) but really only understood him for 30 minutes one March afternoon in late 1988 after I'd spent the day in the library poring over Being and Nothingness and every study guide I could find for it. It was a sublime 30 minutes though. Everything, the grain of the wood on the desk, the weave on the seat cushion, the tightness of the laces cinching my shoes, were more present to me than ever before. Pretty much the only time that philosophy broke through from the realm of the mind to reality, for me. However, thanks to this, I think I actually understand him all over again. Superbe.