The convention center on a Saturday night, albeit a brilliant scene, was not deemed an appropriate venue for hymeneal services. Our nang friend’s offer was respectfully declined and, in its stead, was presented a request for tickets to the place’s ‘ Empire Of The Sun’ concert the following week–a sort of homecoming from the honeymoon. The attempt made, a contrite demeanour the day after the following day let us know that the show was sold out of tickets; even the comfort of the sorrowful hands upon shoulders was not enough to rub in a vulnerary salve for remedying the disappointment. Do positive intentions matter if they always fail? Should one depend on those who oft disappoint, even if not due to their own faults? A night’s-rest refreshed, morning dreams lit the mind with a profound quodlibet: intentions matter most for there is no control over any life host; we are all bound to fail, often many times over, before setting sail. Having convinced myself of peace, soon afterwards a call was retrieved: VIP backstage passes for the three of us–a favor cashed because patience believed. ; )