Entry no.: 1261
12 Sep 2011, 1:05 PM
Regret is like the view from under the brim of a stylish hat that fits perfectly: picture it like a voluptuous slow scene from a Wong Kar-wei movie, barely spoken—in Cantonese with English subtitles.
Regret is like an old rock ballad's vinyl release—and I'm talking about that very rare Japanese mono edition—, like that black and white photograph with a lost man and a lost cat in a big city, or the thought about those first notes of autumn scent detectable in the evening air.
Regret takes years of careful preparations and should never be left to amateurs.