A Room Called Wonder

A vignette by Fred Leeds

Inside my mind there is a room called Wonder, which holds everything cast off by the mind’s more exact science. Beauty can usually be found there, along with her old friend poetry. Philosophy, at last free to pursue its vital, impractical questions, is a constant guest. Empathy is almost always curled up on the mat. I go there myself when I run out of fingers and toes and need an answer that goes beyond exact calculation.

Wonder is not for me alone, of course. There is a welcome sign on the door, dear reader, so you can come too. The only ticket you need is your own curiosity – and just slightly more questions than answers. I hope to see you there.

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