A Lonely Philosopher

As I get older and, reluctantly, more mature – my social life has become dominated by sitting in cafes by myself, wistfully scribbling obscure observations on the nature of mind and systems theory into personal notebooks. It is very lonely and in very many ways.

Something which occurred to me, mid-scribble, today was more generally associated to loneliness and its (apparent, but often problematic) inverse state of love. I was wondering that if this is really a completely random Universe without meaning or purpose beyond that which we ourselves make, is love rendered meaningless or infinitely valuable by this context? It also occurred to me that love might be both meaningless AND infinitely valuable because it is of the nature of infinity to be unintelligible and love, being one of those things that is unprovable in any final sense of logical closure, is thus rendered quite inadvertently meaningless.

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