“Alors, qui etes-vous?” Jacques Derrida and the Question of Hospitality

How could I begin these reflections without recalling at least one phrase in French, the only language I will have ever spoken with Jacques Derrida? How could I begin without letting this language resonate within me, this French language that I will never feel absolutely at home in but that I nevertheless have come to love—and perhaps because of its foreignness—in large part thanks to Jacques Derrida? How could I begin thinking of him without letting these words reverberate within me, these words—”Alors, qui êtes-vous?“—since these were the very first words Jacques Derrida ever addressed to me, on the threshold of what would become—and I feel privileged to use the term—a friendship?