Reality lives in a momentous consequential rackety world.
It lives. See-through and blaring.
In solitude, within privacy of interruption-free introspection– alone.
Our thoughts, reality, creating, peace, dreams, frustrations, imagining – possessing incalculable capacity for billions of simultaneous calculations without moving our head, just in our head, synapses borne of factory-installed software, that CPU between our ears – comes with a one-lifetime guarantee, serving us from womb-time till now.
Solitude can be a state of isolation or celebration – so often I find it to be both intertwined.
The opportunity to sit alone on an island somewhere – or in the middle of metropolis, but apart with our thoughts. Time to think. To grow the momentum of an idea, soundness of a decision, or resolve of a line drawn in the sand…