A bookstore is a dangerous thing for me. I can get lost in there for hours. When I was little, my parents would make a big thing out of visits to Powell’s Books. We would drive in from far away, everyone would get a dollar amount, and we were turned loose with a time limit and instructions to go read whatever we wanted. It was glorious. The flagship store is epic and I used to dream about it, fantasize about it.
Any bookstore has that magical allure- the smell, the sounds, the feel of a great book in your hands. I love to read, and I’m thinking that’s exactly what I want for Christmas- to stay in bed with hot chocolate and snacks, and a huge stack of books. With maybe some breaks to work on writing more of my own.
In The Heat Of The Moment- Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds