The light is amber across the wooden table I sit on. A shallow dance of flickering shadows that glide across the veins of a tree long gone. I am immersed in the silence of my own world, protruding sounds of reality kept at bay by my headphones. A binary string of ones and zero's wriggles its way from the silver disk into my ears where it morphs into the soothing sounds of an ambient album I bought a long time ago.

 The absence of voices and the marching gospel of progress is replaced by mellow moods of music that tingle my imagination. I sit and stare into the flickering flame for just a second and savour the moment. Too few and far in between are my outings to the mare of my own traquilatis. Too seldom to I stroll into this orchard of whispers… where both thought and movement slow down and dance Tenafly to the beat of time. Away from the binary maelstrom of progress. Of information and communication. Severed from the great link that connects me to the virtual world with its constant streams of information and communication.

On the narrow walkway of my own reverie I walk high above the virtual abyss and the skies of my real life. At bay are kept all other human interactions. My reality shrinking down to the scent of my mint tea, the flicker of the candles light and the sounds of mellow moods. As a sentinel I stand and watch over another infinite dimension. One that only exists beyond and without, yet throughout real-and cyberspace. The dimension of my own soul. My deepest thoughts feelings and ponderings. The unlinked workstation of my identity. In an infinite loop my memories, impressions and thoughts compile and recompile each other to form the kernel of who a really am. So seldom I can log out of real-and cyberspace, just to wander through the stone clad walls of my own singularity. In the pool of infinity I converse with my own soul and reflect the light of mind on the crystal clear premonitions’ that are floating through it.  

Soon the Knight that surfs the crest of things to come beaches onto these shores, the servant that walks the world of men rises from his knees and the poets voice takes on its softened tone. I evaporate into my own core and… In this infinite continuum have time to truly be myself. Too few are these times where I remind myself of me. Of the armoury of words, thoughts, feelings and creativity that resides deep inside. I echo the sides of my own polygon that do not often see the light of neither real nor virtual day.  And yet, from time to time it feels so right. To mellow down. Slide down into singularity and run in ones own single-user run level.

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