Bookstore bliss



The videotapes in my house have always been a mystery to me. Our faithful, old casette player (which was as old as me, dad constantly reminded me) had deteriorated with age. The constant groaning and squeaking whenever I tried to insert the videotapes never gave me a chance to view my childhood memories that had been captured before smart phone era.

We managed to convert those videotapes to DVDs and even though the quality was expectedly a little unclear, the memories were enough to set us on our own reminiscent paths. I watched myself browsing through picture books and burying myself in short novels. Mom’s commentary added subtext to the videos as she recalled the many times I had pretended to be sick so I could go home and finish the last pages of my new novel.

Books have always been part of my life. In fact, when my mom got an ultrasound done, the doctors found a baby clutching Philip Pullman’s The Golden Compass. When I was slightly older, I remember watching Belle from Beauty and the Beast swing from a rickety ladder in a tiny library and when the Beast introduced her to his library, I think I had tears in my eyes.

I don’t know how my house is going to look like but I do know there will be a cosy reading corner complete with a ceiling-high bookshelf, couches, pillows and fairy lights.

Visiting bookstores has a pilgrimage essence to it. I feel like I’m stepping into sacred grounds that hold the power of knowledge. I love reading blurbs, discovering new authors and admiring the book jackets. Another thing I’ve started doing since I’ve gotten a phone is to snap pictures of bookshelves that remind me to read them later (in the picture above, The Silversmith’s wife and Salmon Fishing in Yemen) so my phone is always filled with pictures of books after I visit the bookstore because unfortunately, I can’t buy them all. Goodreads has made my life so much easier because I can finally delete those pictures after adding them to my to-read list.

When I started to write a first post, I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to write. I kept staring at a blank space for hours trying to comprehend why I had spent so much time creating and customizing a blog when I had no clue as to what I wanted to write. I will admit that I also tried to solve the problem using my favourite solution- Google magic. 3 deleted posts later, I realized that it didn’t matter what I wrote as long as I wrote what I wanted. I didn’t start a blog to write chiseled, polished stories or researched, cited papers. I want to reflect, record, rant and express and best of all, create. I want to write about the simple pleasures and tragedies of life, the highs and lows and if along the way, I make you smile then you’re welcome to join me on an adventure.




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