There has been an increase in simplicity in my lifestyle since the festive new year’s beginnings. Unexpected but not unwelcome, the weight of time chafes uncomfortably with the original ‘must-adhere to’ schedule for the remainder of 2014. As a result, shuffling this boatload quantity of hourglass sand grains into little tugboats coursing through the river of time has preoccupied thoughtful reveries instead of writing.
Sections of time has been set aside for explorations of secondhand bookstores, those old-fashioned hideaway that appeal to old-time loyal authors and budding writers, and are often a trove of discovery. A bookstores that fulfils the stereotype of being filled with no-notions of organization among the shelves and towering piles, appealing to navigation of wayward feet and latent skills jenga blocks to select one or two curious titles.
For the first few weeks of 2014, several well-worn and binding hard book cover designs are an evolving set of bedtime paramour. These have consisted of a devouring at a rapid pace of a la Cloud Atlas diet, pausing in-between pages of Thoreau’s Walden, and shuffling through the What Katy Did series of old century european travels to the American mindset. As a reminder of the human condition of foils and struggles of morality, the latest to add to the cozy home book collection are Cheryl Strayed’s Wild, and Mitch Albom’s The Five People You Meet in Heaven.