When the squirrels start to stockpile nuts, I start to stockpile books. I need a good stack against the long, dark winter. For me, buying books is tinged with a little superstition. I think the books I need to read find me at the right time, so browsing through ramshackle book sales and dusty used-book stores suits me well - I like finding what I didn't know I was looking for.
Today, I am wishing for a bigger city for my bookish peregrinations. I'm dreaming specifically of London, that city of amazing bookstores. I'd stay at Hazlitt's and admire their blue plaque before setting off here to scout first editions and here to look for artist's books. I'd visit Maggs Bros. and wish for more money and shelf space, then wander wherever the wind took me, up and down alleys, in and out of shops looking for hidden treasures until my pack was filled and it was time to head back to my cozy room and the pleasures of the unknown read.
Labels: imaginary outfit