Sometimes there are just too many interruptions.
Good ideas get lost. The threads that our minds followed are abruptly interrupted. Collated memories vanish like wisp of smoke by a sudden breeze.
Writing suffers. Sometime one has to sacrifice these fleeting thoughts to listen to people.
That is the willing price one has to pay for being in touch without our own minds, for one cannot stop the barrage of thoughts that flow from ones mind without considerable loss of creativity.
Solitude may prove to be too debilitating.