Volume 7 · The Long Afternoon · Essay 215
Regret Premium
You may not know the name Regret Premium, but you know the thing. This page only introduces the two of you formally.
Strip it to the floor and you find an old instruction: look carefully, judge slowly, act decently. The new name exists because the old instruction keeps being forgotten.
What this concept offers is a pause — one extra beat between what happens and what you do about it. Civilisation, someone said, is measured in that beat.
Think of the grandfather who plants a mango tree he will never sit under. Ask him why, and he will look at you as if the question were the strange thing.
In the end, life asks only whether we were awake while it happened. The name is new; the wisdom stood at bus stops long before either of us.