The Shape of a Question

We tend to prize answers. They can be held, repeated, written down. A question, by contrast, stays open — and we are taught to treat what stays open as unfinished.

But some questions are not problems to be solved. They are rooms we live in. What is a good life? What do we owe one another? What is worth loving? We do not answer these once and move on; we return to them, and each return finds us changed.

Perhaps a question kept honestly is its own kind of answer — a way of staying awake.

(Placeholder essay. Replace with David’s own writing.)