Spending A Day At The Bookshop

I find silent bookshops and libraries that are filled with people to be the noisiest places.

The air seems thick, dense with stories from all the books and people’s thoughts.

All silently speaking over each other.

I can’t hear myself in the middle of this crowd of thoughts and ideas filling the air.

Yet somehow in the midst of this tolerable suffocation, I’m able to hear what you wouldn’t usually be able to.

A voice louder than all, hypnotic in a way.

Some books speak to me, their title might be interesting, making them sound exotic from a land far far away.

Some are good looking, handsome, beautiful, I shamelessly judge their looks.

I go on picking books like a person would pick flowers.

Before I know it I have way too many in my hands.

So I sit in a corner and lay them all in front of me in agony.

I hate choosing favourites.