Sartre’s take is that we’re always seeing others as objects, never fully experiencing them as they truly are. It’s like we’re locked in our own heads, always trying but never quite reaching each other. It’s a powerful idea, but I can’t help but feel like Sartre’s view is a bit too bleak. Yeah, we’re alone in a lot of ways, but must it always be this hopeless? Maybe intimacy isn’t doomed after all, but Sartre makes it hard to believe. Still, 3.5/5 for the raw, uncomfortable truth he lays out.