There’s a wonderful horrible feeling when you fancy what you cannot have. It is out of your league. It is beautiful. It probably wouldn’t be the best for you. You feel it would fit you nicely. You are stuck. Everyone else wants it and you find yourself at the bottom of a barrel of better rabbits. It is pointless to move. You are stuck. You think of Anne of Green Gables, but sadder. Enchanting, like a siren. Like a palindrome, you know how you’ll end:

The evening will come with its fog and drown you.