one more thing. that was the best thing about columbo, he'd always turn  at the threshold and lean back in, thoughtful, playing a role that was him, in the uncanny narrative way. one more thing, so casual, everything hinges on the one casual thing, one more thing. strawson seems to link the non-narrative with the transient lives. but i think of the film wendy and lucy, and how it's heartbreaking strength is that it's a narrative of transient lives. it reminds me of  brief encounter. it just seems to happen, and then it ends, and it ends in separation, but the transient lives don't end, not there, there where the story ends. and you stay there in the ending, feeling rent asunder by your own transient life, or lives, for every real story is a transient meeting of passing lives.