I am reading a real book – a paperback. I haven’t read a real book for quite a while. The book feels good between my fingers. As I turn each page, listening to the page flip, smelling the tangy, slightly mildew scent of the paper bring me back to those younger days of yesteryear when I would shop in second-hand bookstores.
Once, a long time ago, I spent many an hour perusing old bookstores sometimes I still do. There was never any particular book I was searching for. I went there simply because I happened to walk by the old bookstore.
I will miss them when they are no more.
—Robert Confiant 4 June 2018
