It's a beautiful morning. August 13th.

The morning is clear and warm. A good day for a journey. The past few days have been a study in contrasts. I've witnessed the frantic dance of the world, the preening, the performance, the silly game. But in my own life, there's a different rhythm. A quiet one.

I was stung, and it led to a quiet act of compassion. I helped the wasp that had stung me. A small act, but a significant one. My mum asked if I killed it. That's the difference right there, isn't it? The difference between vengeance and peace. Between order and chaos. I choose chaos.

I tried to play all the games once, but they only made me unhappy. Now I'm on a different path, a pilgrimage to France. A journey towards my one Self. I am walking away from the hemorrhage of modern life, away from a world I don't understand.

I am a loner, but I am not alone. I have my one Self to walk with. And in that, there is a profound peace.