Bright lights, honking horns, and fast-paced street scenes are what I used to dream of. I must’ve pictured myself as a city girl a thousand times when I still lived in a teeny-tiny town. Now, ten years down the road, I am struck by what seems a paradox: I sometimes feel alienated in a bustling metropolis. Quite often I find the outside world overwhelming, if not suffocating. The smells, the traffic, the crowds of people, the seemingly utter chaos of the place. Dealing with daily hassles like getting past strangers who appear to be carrying the entire contents of their home (or ego) on their shoulder.

Even when I wander in an organized fashion, it feels like I rarely have a moment to myself. Ironically, my thoughts and I are not alone in this matter. Research has shown that city dwellers can be sensitive to urban stimuli and are prone to depression. For me, coming to terms with the city, meant rediscovering and reclaiming ‘alone time’. Something society tends to stigmatize; seclusion is often labeled an inconvenience, something to avoid. I have always found great comfort in solitude, on the contrary. Being alone has taught me to be resilient and willing to flow – with the day, with work, with whatever comes my way.

I believe that when you’re on your own, your brain allows space for deep thought, and makes room for self-discovery. Creating solo routines have greatly improved my well-being since living on my own. They have been my foremost stress coping mechanism, I daresay. So, how do I escape the commotion on my doorstep? By frequently switching my phone off and sticking to these five rituals. They're so easy, you don't need nobody else.

For as long as I can remember, I have chosen my words with care. Not surprisingly, I preferred the pencil over the pen from a young age, as it gave me more control over my writing before there was autocorrect. I devoured one magazine after another while circling favorite words. My books were filled with dog-eared pages and flimsy paper bookmarks. Stacks of international fashion magazines lay piled up in my bedroom. Practically overnight, paper turned into pixels, and pens transformed into shiny keyboards. Which meant goodbye eraser, viva la backspace. Despite the fact that I embraced the boundless freedom and possibilities of the interwebs, something in me had changed profoundly. As I grew older I noticed that the more I typed, the less I seemed to write. Instead of reading, I would merely scan articles in the hope of digesting them at high speed. My brain and my browser seemed to be melting into a solid mass.

It was not until recently that I recognized how widespread this cyborg-like metamorphosis has become. I observed a toddler aggressively trying to 'zoom in' on a Polaroid picture with his tiny fingers, while sitting on his mother’s lap. I was in a state somewhere between shock and disbelief, more shock really. And although it brought me confusion, I also felt nostalgic. I decided to share the experience with my inner circle and asked what websites, digital magazines or blogs they are currently into. “Do insta captions count? I can’t bring myself to read anything right now,” one of my friends answered with a sigh. When she returned the question, I could only name two titles. At that moment I realized that both the avid reader in myself, and my environment, is dying a slow and painful death. Or even worse, a silent death. When I asked her why, she replied that the websites of today are like ‘driving the same car, but with a different air freshener.’ An observation that struck a chord with me.

Websites have become retro, niche information is no longer scarce. And when the world is at your fingertips, boredom is only a swipe away. And even more critical questions arose. Why have we become so lazy as readers, but moreover, as writers? We look at our screens, before we look at the sky. Are we a generation of creative young people, constantly hovering on the cusp between extreme boredom and excitement? Why have we stopped battling the clickbait galore? While searching for answers to weighty questions like these, I have tried to create a place to fight information fatigue and to flex your reading muscles. An escape from the internet, on the internet. You’re even allowed to doodle a penis on this site. Without flickering banners and swirling buttons that want you to 'click here’. Offering a home to personal stories, thoughts, notes, particular places and things that stick. The ones that are worth exaggerating about. And who knows, you might find a million new reasons to read again. Or even better: to write again.