actually, it's kind of nice being wistful. it's a receptive way to feel. we set our sights for the wistful wooded island, and, except for one glum man who gave nor nod nor wink nor howdy-d0, urging his dog glumly on, we were blissfully alone. and i thought to myself and to mister, it is a small world, me and you alone on a man-made island in a violent city in the bird-calm of late winter, but it's ours, and it's magical.