No, that’s not a reply to a pick up line.
A few friends of mine have a clear idea when I text just to say that I am lost in a bookstore. Bookstores are the candy stores for me.
Just the thought of entering one is a thrill. Being in there really makes me giddy—in a good way. And being lost in there is a timeless, unguarded, and a most wonderful heaven.
You could leave me at a bookstore and you wouldn’t hear from me until I remember I should be somewhere doing something else. It’s like stepping on to the Island of Lotus-eaters.
Possibly, I developed this habit of getting lost because my mother would often leave me at the school library. But that’s for another post.
I’ve seen my friends get lost too. But their way is different from mine. Some just wander about, with no real direction. Like bees going from flower to flower. Just following this innate sense of theirs that there’s a book in a certain section that is calling out to them. Beckoning them. And they must answer. Soon.
My other friends are like dogs—hounds even. Even if there is a mass of books to see, there is no way you keep them off the trail. They will follow and they will find that book, no matter what. They are determined to have that particular book. And only that particular book.
Personally, I take a tour of the bookstore. I start from the nearest point then work my way around the whole place, passing every (or almost every) bookshelf, table, and book. Admittedly, yes, it takes a lot of time. But it is through these rounds of mine that I have encountered serendipitous finds. And I love it when that happens!
Don’t you just think it’s great it when you come across a book you’ve never seen before, you’ve never read a review of, and—once you bought it and read it—you were glad you actually found it?
Well, yes. There is a gamble with that. You might not like what you bought, even feel like it was a waste. It’s just like meeting people. There are those whom you love for life, those you forget where you last saw them, those you keep around for the heck of it, and those you keep figuring out why they’re with you in the first place.
That said, a thought just crossed my mind: I have never made—or met—a friend at a bookstore. Interesting. Curious even. My answer: possibly because I am too lost in being lost there that I never noticed someone found me.