Enisled

YES! in the sea of life enisl’d, / With echoing straits between us thrown, / Dotting the shoreless watery wild, / We mortal millions live alone.

For Derrida, no isthmus, no bridge, no road, no communication or transfer, connects or can ever connect my enisled self to other selves.

Truth to tell, I'm feeling pretty enisled on my lounge chair, but that state will not hold for long because apparently I have a visitor.