Monday, February 11, 2002
I'm on my way to wander around Borders bookstore. I have yet to find a person who doesn't equate time in a bookstore with time in The Pit of Despair with that odd albino fellow. I used to drag my sister along, but she would usually head straight for the magazine rack in persuit of the latest issue of "seventeen" or "ym" and search me out every fifteen minutes asking when we were going to leave. I, on the other hand, could spend hours completely lost in the volumes of another person's life story. Finding a good book is like uncovering some special secret or making a new best friend. I don't know quite what it is I am in search of tonight, but I know I'm going to the only place I could possibly find out.
#
#
Comments:
Post a Comment
