Ignorance is like walking through noon-day fog. The world is right there, but its edges melt and curl away. You can stop and assume the sidewalk is all there is, or take a few careful steps. Each question is a footstep; each book is a small gust of wind; each conversation is a flashlight sweeping the haze. The shapes don鈥檛 move closer鈥攜ou do鈥攁nd with every step the fog thins until the same street you started on looks bright, detailed, and familiar. Ver m谩s