I’ve walked for many kilometers, the soles of my boots worn thin by the endless path that stretched before me. Each step was a testament to my solitude, a journey through a landscape that seemed to exist outside of time. The world around me was a canvas of muted colors, the sky a pale, washed-out blue, and the earth beneath my feet a tapestry of browns and greens.

At first, the silence was a welcome companion. It was a stark contrast to the cacophony of my previous life, where noise was as constant as the air I breathed. Here, in this vast emptiness, the quiet was profound, almost sacred. It allowed me to hear the subtle sounds of nature—the rustle of leaves, the occasional whisper of the wind, the distant call of a bird that seemed to echo through the void.

But as the kilometers stretched into what felt like an eternity, the silence began to transform. It wasn’t just the absence of sound anymore; it became a presence, an entity in its own right. The quiet grew louder, not in volume but in intensity, filling my mind with its oppressive weight.

In this overwhelming silence, my thoughts began to take on a life of their own. They whispered to me, not with the gentle voice of introspection but with the eerie, echoing resonance of a voice from the abyss. “You are a photon into a supermassive black hole,” they murmured. The words were chilling, not just for their content but for the way they seemed to resonate with the very essence of my being.

The metaphor was apt. A photon, with its infinite journey, its path bent by the gravity of a black hole, spiraling closer and closer to an event horizon from which there is no return. Here I was, in this desolate expanse, feeling the pull of an existential gravity, drawing me into the depths of my own psyche.

The silence, once a balm, now felt like the void of space, cold and indifferent. My steps, once purposeful, now seemed futile, as if I were walking towards an inevitable singularity where all paths converge and all light, all sound, all essence of self would be consumed.

Yet, within this daunting realization, there was a strange peace. The acceptance of my journey, of my solitude, of the whispering truths in my head, brought a clarity. I was not just a traveler in this physical landscape but a voyager through the cosmos of my own mind, where every step was both an escape and a descent into the heart of a black hole, where even light must eventually surrender to darkness.

And so, I walked on, the silence now a companion in my journey towards understanding, towards the acceptance of my own insignificance in the grand tapestry of the universe, and perhaps, towards a new kind of enlightenment.

The sun was still up there, gazing at us. There was no soul around, just total silence. As we held our breath, we could hear our hearts beating.

That was something special. It lasted only a few moments, but it will last forever in my memories…

Now that I am a hundred years old, remembering this brings me pure joy. I am not fully sure if this is because of the pure beauty of the place… or if it reminds me that once, long ago, I was young and full of life. Ah, nostalgia, my dear, what are you doing to me? Was living then better? What exactly changed? What exactly happened? Is it life that changed? Or is it my perception?

Things that I disliked then are now pleasant to me. Things that I liked then are now meaningless. However, there is one thing that has remained constant throughout all those years: her.