Regret and Wisdom

What did you mean, 'regret'? asked Pliny the Elder.

I mean the regret of missed opportunities, I replied.

Opportunities for what? asked Pliny.

Photo opportunities, I said. Let me give you an example. I was in Hyde Park with my camera. I saw a letterbox set into a whitewashed wall, drenched in sunlight. The letterbox was decorated with a fringe of pink crepe paper, which rustled in the breeze.

I assume you didn't stop and take a photograph, which you regretted later on?

That's true. I kept on walking with the camera in my pocket and the letterbox receded into history.

And mystery?

Yes and mystery. Why decorate a letterbox that way? It would have made it difficult to put the letters in. And if it rained, the letters would get stained with pink.

Perhaps it was someone's birthday, suggested Pliny.

Perhaps it was. Anyway, it doesn't matter now.

It isn't lost, said Pliny, just because you didn't photograph it. You've remembered it, and even written something down. So you have captured it after all.

But I might be remembering it wrong. If I had the photo I could see.

The photograph might also have remembered it wrong, said Pliny sagely.