It would be so easy for me to get lost in a place like this. Millions of books lining the walls, stacked to the ceilings, just begging to be opened by another wandering library patron. The smell of old books has a way of calming me with the quietness of readers and the occasional gasp of emotion as to what happens on the next page.
Used bookstores and libraries are somewhat magical to me; you never know what your determined eyes and thumbing fingers will find. Searching to your heart's content for that PERFECT book. Once it is found, that sense of gratitude overwhelms the stagnant air knowing your next adventure is about to begin.
If your life was a book, what would it be titled? What would it be say? Would there be many readers?
