Bookstores.

No matter how much technology tries to convince me, I refuse to abandon my local bookstore.

There’s something about the smell of old books, new books, old bookcases. 

There’s something about that old couple who runs the place and smiles, talks, and recommends something from another time.

There’s something about the people who sit in bookstores, so absorbed that they jump when you accidentally step on their toes.

There’s something about the kids who climb the shelves, picking up books and saying, “Daddy I want this one.”

There’s something about the feel of glossy covers, torn edges, printed knowledge.

Time feels unlimited, life feels more simple, happiness less far away.

Loneliness vanishes.

Instant connection to the past, wisdom, strangers, your own personal thoughts. 

I really do hope that the bookstore does not become extinct. I want the future to feel what I feel when I walk inside and stay a while. I really do hope that paper books do not become things of the past. I want the future to know what it’s like to curl up in bed with a good book. 

 

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5 responses to “Bookstores.

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