‘Maybe one day you’ll make up your mind,’ she said, and turned away. And the sentiment hung there, suspended, floating on a breeze of possibility. Everything gets carried along by the vagaries of that same shifting wind. ‘Everything’s possible,’ she called out over her shoulder. ‘It’s just a case of wanting it badly enough.’ But really, it’s a case of knowing what we want. I don’t want anything badly enough. I want a myriad things, but sometimes they’re in perfect contradiction with each other. Somehow the best things end up mutually exclusive.