Down.the.Street
Chris (archi3d)
Somewhere in France there is a bookshop selling ancien livres, old books. If you somehow manage to find your way there, don’t go at night. For you will become spellbound by the smell of ancient paper as you take leather-bound volumes off the shelves, one by one.
You’ll run a finger over the embossed cover, thumb through the gilded paper edges, and dip into a chapter at random. Don’t start reading whatever you do, for you will be transported to another place, another century. If you’re lucky, another planet. Time will pass, fading like the evening light. You’ll pick up another book, and another, sliding this one back onto the shelves, putting that one aside as a possible purchase.
You’ll wander along row upon row, thumbing the spines, pulling at one that takes your interest. That old book smell will intoxicate you with its delicate musty scent. You’ll duck through an archway and discover more books and more books. You’ll go up the stairs following the sign to the Grenier and find yourself in an attic room where the books are piled high in pillars that stretch from floor to ceiling. You won’t touch these old volumes for fear that the piles will topple and the whole house of paper will come tumbling down with them, books scattered in the street amongst roof tiles, lying like fallen leaves in autumn.
But you are wise, you won’t do this.
Instead you will tiptoe downstairs and browse a while longer.
Finally you will decide on a stack of books that you just have to own, you’ll fumble in your pocket for the right change, and you’ll pile the books under one arm. The doorbell will chime as you emerge into dawn light and birdsong.
You’ll go home, wending your way slowly through narrow cobbled streets and you’ll think of going to bed, but though your intentions are noble, you’ll pick up the novel at the top of the stack and begin reading the first line…
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