“If curiosity killed the cat, it was satisfaction that brought it back.”

Holly Black

Imagine for a moment, if you will, carrying around a terrible weight expanding within your mind, grinding upon your shoulders and quite possibly burning ferociously within your soul.

The weight is comprised not of traditional molecules that make up the things we touch everyday, but of a different type of of molecule, an archetypal molecule in the form of a Question. 

This seems fantastical and without form, yet you feel a tremendous weight and to those who see you with their eyes you've slowed and sagged as you walk. To those paying attention with their ears, your words seem blushed with an eternal object emoting substance, rarely heard let alone felt, slowly emanating from your mouth.

Nagging question needing resolution, refusing to go away. Fiery question glowing inside refusing your attempts to ignore it, or worse to wind it tightly like some knitted ball of yarn and toss it with all your might into the ether, or maybe a backyard puddle.

How curious are you and how curious was that darn cat? If curiosity killed that cat, what happened next?