Just how many comebacks can one artist have? Is there perhaps a limit each is gifted by the creative gods? If the latter is true, it means one can run out of chances. Luckily, I don’t have the answers to any of these questions, because sometimes not-knowing is potent. There’s a courage that can bloom from the nebulous shadows of unknowing, a hope that like a fetus roils inside when it’s finally shove time and ‘yet’ begins to thaw, slowly but surely. Life yet to be lived, opportunities yet to be taken, rivers yet to be crossed, mountains yet to be climbed.