Why I Like Stars

I just picked up a book that has sat on my shelf or in moving boxes for the past eight years: Rocket Dreams, by Marina Benjamin. I don't know why I picked it up. I do this from time to time when walking past my book shelf and I never really know what compels me to do so. Maybe there's an invisible hobbit or leprechaun sitting on my shoulder whispering commands in my ear, I don't know.

I paged through the book, stopping on a star with a circle around it written in pencil next to a paragraph where Benjamin writes about the philosophy of spaceflight, citing french scientist turned philosopher, Gaston Bachelard.

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