On the Camino, there are stages where the landscape becomes intimate: just you, the crunch of your boots, and the wind caressing the fields. There is no more honest company than your own. That solitude is not emptiness, but a mirror where, at last, you can see yourself without masks. When was the last time you allowed yourself to be alone, without hurry or agenda?
Modern life teaches us to fear solitude, to fill it with noise and screens. But in those moments dedicated to self-care—where time fades and the outside world blurs—solitude is transformed.
It is not isolation, but encounter. A massage in silence is not just a therapeutic gesture: it is a wordless dialogue with what you carry inside. The hot water of the jacuzzi is not just relaxation: it is a liquid embrace that reminds you that you belong to yourself.
It is a space where masks fall away and essential questions emerge. Who are you when no one is watching? What dreams have you buried under layers of routine?
It is not about escaping the world, but about reconnecting with your own essence. Solitude, when chosen, is not a punishment: it is a sanctuary. And in that refuge, you find the truest company: your own
