There is a shop, somewhere. One day, quite by accident, you will find it. It will be in a city you've never visited before, down a small side street you won't ever be able to locate again. Maybe it's a book shop or an art gallery. Maybe it's a record store. You will feel yourself drawn to it. And on its shelves you will find copies of every book you never wrote. Hanging on its walls will be all the pictures you never painted. In its racks will be every song you never composed, played by every band you never formed. They will let you browse for a little while, the keepers of this shop. And then they will laugh you back outside. Don't try to buy anything. They won't let you. They'll tell you that you missed your chance, and then slam the door in your face, twisting the sign in the window over to CLOSED. So what can you do about it? You can act now to put them out of business. Leave no book unwritten, no picture unpainted, no song uncomposed. And then on that day, you will find the shop, and it will be shut up, nothing but dust in its windows, and you can pass by without giving it a second thought.
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