by Jacqueline Winter Thomas
Every moment in space and time is of absolute equal weight, equal value, the question of value itself being an absurd one. But retrospectively, my life seems most punctuated by moments spent alone. Even as a child I recall escaping my house at the earliest hours of morning and wandering the break of woods a block away. I recall walking from a party into the night, just fifteen or sixteen, and hearing the voices, fading quiet, still there in the shadows — my self now apart, an observer rather than participant. These experiences were most meaningful and lucid, as if all other time was fogged and, only when I slipped away, did the world become fuller, more clear. More than all else, I loved the sadness of it: of feeling most connected when alone and far from all others.