The peculiarly melancholic beauty of duality for which a very specific kind of happiness exists but only in the negative, as what is lost or withheld or forfeited, because as you are imagined it is with a perfect balance of the inside and outside, the present and the absent, neither existing without the other. The same certainty of fulfillment can be grasped from either side, but only from absence does it also produce this yearning kind of beauty of a winter evening.