Endings and beginnings

I wonder why we sometimes feel sorry when something ends, even when we know that to prolong its existence is undesirable. Do we really want a Lord of the Rings IV after the denouement? Or an extra piece of pie after the first two? Or the agony of thesis-writing after submission? Or, for that matter, a relationship that’s reached its sell-by date? As ever, what we know and what we feel often pull in different directions. Disappointment and relief co-mingle like mud in murky water needing only time to separate them, after which (I hope) is clarity and calm.


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