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Reminiscing About the Bookstore That Once Was
The old Barnes & Noble building stands empty, a hollow shell of its former self.
When I walk past that vacant space, a profound sadness washes over me, like a bitter winter wind piercing my soul.
I yearn for the old days, when I’d drift blissfully amongst the bookstore’s aisles, inhaling the heavenly scent of freshly printed pages. My hands would dance across the spines, caressing titles, as I debated which stories to dive into.
After selecting a book, I’d order a venti latte at the in-store Starbucks and find a cozy armchair next to the faux fireplace. Sipping the rich, velvety coffee, I’d crack open my new book, disappearing for hours into its pages. The troubles and stresses of life would melt away as I lose myself in imaginary worlds.
Now when I pass by the empty building, a feeling of loss overwhelms me, like glimpsing the face of an old friend who has moved away. I miss the quiet joy of browsing, of stumbling upon new authors, of holding physical books.
The convenience of e-readers is poor compensation for the tangible magic of bookstores. Though I try to be optimistic, a small part of me…
