Today was book day. I traveled into a used bookstore which I have never been to before. As soon the door swings shut and the bell chimes, my nostrils are overpowered by that musty smokey smell that inhabits all used book stores. I feel like I have jumped into a time machine.
The owner of the store eyes me suspiciously, I know full well that he is only protecting his books. He kindly directs me towards the literature section which is full of authors I have never heard of before. I have become obsessed with literature and poetry lately in hopes of developing my writing.
As I wander aimlessly through stack after stack I find Joyce Carol Oates. Every review and jacket overview inspires me. I land on My Heart Laid Bare a story about deception and love. The shops proprietor curiously buzzes about putting books away and opens up conversation as to how he may assist me.
Poetry is the main reason for my visit to his emporium of knowledge. I now have a new friend (Peter) as well as a bag full of poetry (Coleridge, Eliot, Plath, and Updike). Peter talks about books with the love and passion of a voracious reader. He kept muttering under his breath about a lost book and how it has run away from him. I can't help but imagine how his store comes to life at night. Books running around with little legs and Peter chasing after them forever alphabetizing.
After having left, I am again of the mind that English literature is a degree of interest. I love how when I read a good book I can't put it down, hours of my weekly life are spent deeply immersed in novels. I would love to spend my life taking pictures and writing about glamour and love.
This is my journey,
Minute to minute, day to day,
The sun rises and the sun sets.
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