Who had expected this bend in the river? As we rowed our boat along, mechanically and half-asleep, occasionally looking out at the humdrumness to spot the occasional crumb of excitement, had we imagined that we will come face to face with a landscape so simultaneously full of fear and hope? A vista strange enough for us to lose ourselves and find ourselves at the same time?
Quarantined with myself in splendid solitude – I am discounting the subdued prattle around me – I have felt moments of joy that bear the same prefix as the virus that drove us indoors – novel. The experience hasn’t turned me particularly introspective, to be clear. Nor have I plunged headlong off the cliff of the past into the waiting ocean of spirituality. But when I finally bookmark the main pages of my life, this one will surely be there, underlined, dog-eared and marked for the posterity.
Unless, this is the beginning of that posterity! Has the last chapter been reached already?
Years ago, I had read and liked this quote: solitude is the cure for loneliness.
With an unaccountable – though unambiguous – joy I say to the unknown author – I know what you meant.
And I agree.