The perfect maze.Yesterday. Because.

Perfect in the sense that getting lost would have been pleasurable. Perfect because somehow finding the way out would not have been as beneficial as discovering what a world of authors chose to write about. This was the secondhand (I prefer the term: 'preloved') bookstore with the deceptively cramp front.

I had already visited my favorite jewelry boutique, spending about 16minutes on wishful thinking and a minute more on bittersweet wondering. The longer I spent there the hungrier my eyes became and the emptier my fingers appeared so it was seemingly time to move on. I had a few more moments to dawdle away and decided that this little bookshop around the corner next to the pizza shop could keep me occupied that little while longer.

-Enters I-

I walked straight towards the shelf of compiled "art" coffee table books and the like, where I had bought an intriguing account of Peter Max's (love him) colourful works for $30 in first year. I found a few more at the $30 mark, deciding I could not afford to splurge at a time like this &that today my absolute cap on spending would be $25. Nothing on that shelf struck me as worth the large amount within the four or six minutes I spent scanning and flicking through random pickings.

I proceeded to the neighbouring subdivision at the foot of the narrow staircase, on whose wall requested that all bags be left at the counter. Reluctance to leave my belongings with strangers was due to trust issues (seeded by my father, concerning this dark intending world); I did, however, soon remind myself that only characters of relative worth would be granted work in such a treasure trove! So I hello-ed the stranger behind the counter and left my belongings with him as I walked up the stairs into divided chambers.

Something happens when you're surrounded by books, especially when the books are pre-loved orphans waiting to be chosen, wanting to be loved. I found myself quickly wishing I could somehow absorb every book in each chamber, just by running my fingers over their spines even if it took me hours.

Because in here, even the dust was rich. Because the finest of people (defined simply by their desire and effort to share something wonderful) sifted their thoughts and refined their recollections to present us (the rest of the world) with something of value; another interpretation of life- beautiful and unglorious alike! Because it is important to let people know things. Because our world seeks to be expanded; territory, covered and appropriate knowledge known so that the best of decisions can be made in life.

Because somehow life is a strict yes and no, black and white and somewhere in this library of forlorn writings was the answer to mine and I needed to know it. I knew that somehow if I were to put everybody together, everything would make sense. Because everybody holds a different piece of my puzzle, and books are little pieces of people, so it made perfect sense that if I collected expressions of different pieces from every person...I would finally understand.

But I could not afford every book in the world written by every person, I couldn't even afford a few hundred books in one of these chambers let alone the entire shop, let alone the entire world of books!

I returned to my belongings and thanked the stranger behind the counter. I gave him $17.50 and a smile. He gave me four books, one paper bag and returned the smile.

-Exit I with the friend I entered the maze to wait for-