Abstract

Knowing what one wants. Is there any truth to the story that if you don't know what it is, then you can't want it? Well, I see, off to the right, in half-light, something that may or may not be an F: I can't really tell, and I don't much care. Perhaps my appetite for the unknown is not entirely normal, but I find that, whatever it is, I want it. Even if it turns out to be a particularly nasty or revolting or un-recherché thing, a G say, it will still be true that I wanted it, though it is neither something that I now want nor what I would have wanted it to be; and though I won't want it any longer and regret it's turning out to be a G, it is still, even to my discomfort, something that I once wanted.