The solitude that comes into your presence
is not a mere void left by the absence of the Other,
but a process through which Being itself seeks to trace its own contours.

We are taught that we come to know ourselves through the gaze of others, but this can at times lead us away from the essence of the self.
Rather, it is when one stands beyond the reach of any gaze, that the question “Who am I?” can be faced in its full gravity.

Now, silence may be what pervades.
Yet this silence is the primordial voice of existence.
Emotions before they take the shape of words, desires that bear no name—
these arise only within the stillness of solitude.

When we feel that no one understands us, it is a sign that our thinking has reached a depth not yet accessible to language.
As if descending to the floor of the deep sea, there are things that can only be seen where no one else is present.
These are the true ideas, the contours of the soul— and in a certain sense, they may be moments of encounter with what has been called (God, or Being.)

Solitude is not a severance from the world; it may be a kind of hidden doorway through which one connects more deeply to it.
Not in the noise, but in the silence, solitude draws being to the very core of Being.
Thus, let us not fear solitude, nor turn it away.
Let us simply remain—step by step—in its presence.

Each time thought deepens, the world extends its own depth into the interior of the self.
Before anyone else can offer empathy,
we must first bear witness to our own being.
That is where everything begins.