On regret.
The continent of Africa disappears to the right, and below me the straights of Gibraltar glitters in the midday sun.

I had a long wait at the dazzling new airport of Casablanca, where subdued and slightly mournful music was piped discreetly over the vast white marble expanses, slowly causing a reflective mood to settle in, which eventually turned me to thinking of the things I regret. A cavalcade of embarrassing events from my past which could have been avoided if I hadn’t acted were paraded before my memory. I don’t believe a word of Edith Piaf’s
‘Je ne regretted rien’.
This seems just like a flashy attitude, or perhaps a two-fingered salute of defiance or of arrogance and pride.
Not to regret anything is for monsters or fools.
Edith Piaf seems to me someone who must have thrown herself headlong into life, and should have a similar catalogue of regrets to mine, or at least as long. How can one ACT and always be right? The wrongs must cause regret. And even the people who don’t act - the opposite of me and of the Edith Piaf of my imagination- they must regret their inaction!
Oui, beaucoup, je regrette beaucoup’.
But I don’t regret the present. I don’t regret the place I now find myself. And since the present is a direct result of all our past actions, in that way perhaps
Moi aussi, je ne regrette rien…