Back To The Future
When forced to abandon something one loves for a while, there are clear stages of grieving for that lost object of affection. Initially the pain is sharp, like that of a parent whose only child has just flown the nest. You battle the overwhelming impulse to reunite, interfere, intercede. Eventually, however, the severity of the need to remain connected lessens, and one assumes the demeanour of a fond observer, like, say, a sidelined podcast host watching a succession of his …
