Inquisition

This weekend, my friend and I went to Barnes & Noble–my personal version of crack alley.  I can pass up alcohol.  I can pass up food.  I can pass up drugs.  I can NOT resist buying a book while in a book store.  It’s terrible.

I bought some good books–Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell, Persuasion by Jane Austen and Twilight by Stephenie Meyer.  Colleen bought books that answered questions that burn in her brain, keeping her up at night.  

My friend has this…inquisitiveness…that I admire.  The two of us can walk down a street, seeing the same sights.  I think, “Wow, that’s cool.”  And that is generally the end of it.  

Colleen sees something, and she thinks, “Wow.  That’s cool.  I wonder what year that building was built.  What is the significance of the peaks of the building.  Why is that statue of the woman on top of the building?  Who built that building?  Who designed that building?  What inspired that person to design the building?”  

Being friends with Colleen makes me ask more questions, makes me more inquisitive.

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