I’m the type to give a dog a hefty chunk if he pushes the pity button long enough.

Mom got the early warning when I was a kid. She told me I’ve the habit of getting lost in bookstores. Inside National, the never-let-go-of-mom’s-hand-rule was often forgotten as I wandered dazed as if I was in some fairy land.

Maybe it’s the stubborn resolve to see things with rose-tinted glasses or the desperate hope of believing in the innate goodness of a person. Or hey, a good friend of mine would put it as just plain naivety.

Curiosity killed the cat Marisse. You’re on sabbatical remember?

Can anyone tell me… Are stars hard or soft?