I know what I want, but I don’t know what they want. I like what I want. I even like what they want. But I don’t know what it is they want.

I have clues. They tell me things. But I’m not listening. Ah, that’s it. I can’t listen. Words are strung together like pearls of wisdom and yet I only get every other pearl, or maybe not even every other but some and they make no sense, no jewelry,  with the string.

If only I had a string.