At the dawn of my awakening, this thought appeared from the horizon beyond night. Of all the spirited friends we have or will ever have, only one stands out and stays true to its virtue. Loneliness, I wonder, has been integral to each one of our lives. And no matter how much we try to cover it with denial, the truth is that we are all fond of it, in our own crooked ways. We like to be left lonely, at some time or the other, from the plethora of things with little or no meaning, from the many relations that stay with us just for the sake of staying. Truth is we would rather be lonely on a night before fresh rains, or on a winter afternoon that can be well spent peeling off oranges beneath the sun than be encapsulated by a surplus of noise-like people saying noise-like words which get involuntarily discarded. And even for those who have been gifted with less meaninglessness, even for them, loneliness gives that vital excuse, that opportunity of being sad, only to get back to those whose absence have left them so.

In the end, there is only little we can do or gain without loneliness.