Escapism

I have this tendency to escape to science the way I run off into novels. There is something so comforting in the smooth walls of Science, the invisible infinity of it. Nine novels into this year, I still have that tingling sensation behind my knees that makes me want to run. To run, to leap, to dive. Into anything.

I just find it curious that the tight corset of math and science feels as comforting to me as the loose silk of literary indulgence. Like hands gripping your waist or brushing over your skin.

Standing in the lab on Tuesday, seeing the light filter through the differently shaped bottles on the shelves between the benches, it struck me that I want to make science romantic. I want to have a love affair with Science, that stubborn Darcy of disciplines.