So, it’s officially been one year since Michael Crichton died of cancer.
I guess when you read enough of someone’s writing, (and I read 13 novels worth of his) you start to feel like you know them: learning about author inbetween the lines. I don’t care if it sounds silly, he was my idol all through middle and high school and I miss him. A bond and friendship that transcended time and space and aliens and global warming and white gorillas and nanoparticles.
Looks like it’s time to reread some scific, yum.