What nonsense. Really. We are going around in our sunset years with a tin pail into which we are dropping various sights and sounds, along with a few contrived circumstances…that we think we missed; that we think would have changed us.
A Handful, less than a few seconds a piece of once-upon-a-time. Of killing big Bob, of ‘face-up’ watching the needle go into your neck, of laughing till you pissed on the bus to Pamplona, of her fingertips to your brow at Metro Cadet, of that glimpse of kindness from a stranger on the 10:36 to Bridgeport.
No….no pail for them. No pail for all we can ever get.