It's to be envied to be alone, sometimes. 

    Now that more than 6 billion are born with the identity of man, among which few are acquainted with yourself, so it's fairly convenient to get lost, intentionally. You can cower at the corner of a bookshelf in the library, enjoying an easy read  alongside a stranger A; You may deviate the main road or make a detour around the populated destination to be kept unseen; Or if you be daring, patronize a relatively high-standard eat-out or drink-out at some place your peers wouldn't normally go. But the ultimate approach is, just as I did, to go to a place far far away.

    Here I came, into the deep south, to reconstruct my social atmosphere: a new batch of friends, sharing a sphere of interest just as the old ones did; a line of shops, selling things with no marked contrast to the old ones; a series of activities, more or less the same as the old ones except nuances in financial flexibility; loads of enchanting books, bearing the truth that is simultaneously accredited around the world.

    Before long, as the wavefront the dewdrop occasioned reaches the others, I will not be alone any more.

    So it's to be envied to be alone, sometimes.