Everywhere we go there is a wonderfully fascinating world just below the surface, to get there all we have to do is wipe the film from the window of our mind. I cleaned my window at a local bookstore. I walk into Border’s Books and Music and I see an interesting variety of both patron and staff. I went there on a Sunday night, what an experience for someone who is paying attention.
I sit in the corner watching the masses move by in a haze. They wander with a purpose, looking for the most recent shining beacon the media has placed on its spire. I watch as the sweat suit clad soccer mom reaches in front of the pin stripe suited businessman for a copy of the book he holds. As she opens the cover to read the teaser I hear the pages rustle like the jacket of an old friend who reaches to
As I wander the aisles between isles of product the din of pop music being blasted on the sound system constantly distracts me. I find myself trying to block out the music because the constantly changing beats throw my thoughts for a loop. Just below the pulse of the new CD in the player I hear the repetitive click of plastic sleeves moving in and out of hands, like knuckles cracking one at a time. I look around at myriad of posters of recently and soon to be released albums and movies. The contrast of colors brought out more by the lighting hurt the eyes of those who give the pop culture icons more than a cursory scan. The same thing that attracts their prey quickly shuns the attention that is sought by these lonely sheets.
embrace you after a long separation. The gentle give of the paper, like t
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