Driving out in the country on the way home from the Orthodontist. Mild spring day with dazzling azure skies and vibrant colors everywhere.
We see a low white building, somewhat resembling an old chicken coop or gas station. On the side in bold black lettering, we see the word: BOOKS
Inside the windows we can see a jumbled array of worlds longing to be explored and masterpieces waiting to be discovered.
At first it looks like one smallish sized room. But then it keeps going. And going. And going. Doorways that are hardly noticeable lead into more rooms. I run my hands over the bookshelves as they sit there, groaning with the weight of the secrets they hold. They joy they support. The rapture they carry.
A man comes out and counts out my books. Not ready to leave yet, I still run around, gathering up a few more items.
Mariah takes a few pictures so I don’t have to waste any time away from the books. “Get a picture here, please” I point breathlessly at an extra large stack. So many books!
I wonder how it can be that I’ve never been to a bookstore like this before. I long to be able to come back and inspect the books with greater care.