Yes and No

I’m mulling over the persistence of regret, and the eternal buzzing of unresolved desire. Why do people turn away from what they want? It’s kind of like lip-synching—one glitch and the speaker, doubled, becomes her own echo, with her words audible to the world only when her mouth is closed.

Pull yourself together! That would be good advice for the shopper who hesitates and loses what she would ask for.

Moving on… I am, along with half the world, addicted to eBay, and spend my evenings in armchair travel; that is, I hunt for armchairs. Specifically, for ones that consort with side chairs, a bench, and maybe a table or two. I’m only interested if the set—Sitzgarnitur, Sitzgruppe—is Austrian, early 20th century, wood (form always trumps comfort), and maybe has shreds of original Josef Hoffmann-like fabric still clinging to its seats. Only once did I find exactly what I’d hoped for and then I let it go without so much as placing a bid. Had I not meant business in all the hours I spent looking? And why does the search continue?

What does it mean when you know something you want is one-of-a-kind, that you will never see the likes of it again, and yet, when it materializes, you grant it only a loving orbit? That even with crazy encouraging music in the background, you can't think to put your hand up for the ring?