that old bookstore
by Nina Joan
Time becomes and illusion when wandering through passages of crowded corridors and corners filled from the floor to the heights of the ceiling with books. The maze of books piled, stacked and lined in chaotic order fills the soul with wonder. Though in the silence, the aged and weary books themselves speak as they have stories to share with whom every dares to open them. As I wander through I cannot help but wonder; who has held these pages and turned each page? Was it in either delight or derision? Where have these books travelled to and where will they go? Wandering through time and through the maze one cannot help but enjoy the unknown mystery held within an old bookstore.