As I search for things to collect, I step into the antique bookstore. The range of subjects here is boundless. The words are in many tongues. The authors come from the four winds.
All of the books have a price. All of the scripts are black as night. The knowledge of the ages resides here.
I have found a new source for my purchases. The shopkeeper is very kind. His heart is seeping through this storehouse. He has built a business filled with the relics of time.
Sometimes, I search to fill my collection of Bible translations. I want their words to sing a chorus of devotion with each other.
Some of the books are covered with a thin layer of dust. Most are well preserved, but their origin has been forgotten. I will never know who brought the items I find that are filling my shelves.
Despite the age of their bindings, I can always find something new here. The magic words run deep. I can read them and fall into the arms of a mystical reverie.
I want to retrieve forgotten words. When I return, I know that I can find the wisdom the ancients. Perhaps I will discover a new reality hidden on the pages of the next book I pick up.
[A fictionalized version of Hyde Brothers Booksellers]