I remember clearly one of my last days at the office. I made one phone call after another to get all the paperwork done, tell colleagues what to do in my absence and give instructions to my daughter how to take care of my home, the cats and the garden. Two weeks of non-communication looked like heaven. Two weeks of not being bothered about forgotten signatures, impossible logins in government systems, tracing relevant documents. The thought of two weeks of quarantine, being just bothered by my own thoughts, not that of others, kept me pushing forward to get it done.
Reality is, I’ve had it with being alone. For a few days already. Ones own thoughts become very boring very quickly when there is very little input from the outside world. What made matters worse is that the internet connection failed completely since my last update, so all I had was me, myself and my books.
I’ve taken weeks off work before, gone on holidays alone. Not speaking to anyone else for days at end happened to me before, but the psychological effect of not being allowed to go where you like adds a whole different dimension to solitude. Not being to able to find a café to enjoy a coffee and listen to other people talk. Not being able to get in a car to just drive somewhere, anywhere, and enjoy the change of scenery. This is not a vacation. I’m a prisoner on house arrest. And I’m not even in my own house. It may only last two weeks, but time seems to stretch the room, sometimes enlarging it, but mostly tightening it.
Anyway. All is well enough, though. Just observing myself and noticing the mindfuck this situation actually is. The internet is now finally fixed. I could even upload some of my doodles now, but I decided not to. For now. Now that the end of solitude is near, I can focus on preparing for my research again. I’ll share some facts on Pangheya tomorrow, in case you’re too lazy to search for it online.