why do you want to go to the latin quarter again? HOM asks me. there is a bookstore i want to visit, i tell him.
it is a messily ordered cluttered cavernous shop with books that invite you to browse your day away. it is a library of soft limp pilled and stained cushions that allow you to sink yourself onto. it is a piano in the upper room that wants to be played. it is respectfully hush hush and delightfully free of tourist chatter. it is the bewitched bookstore of my childhood.
between the museums and this place, my soul has had a vacation.
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