We all have it: that happy place where everything seems to alright with the world. Our home away from home, placed right in the place we live. For me, that place is The Strand, New York's finest and possibly most popular bookstore. Whenever I feel a little sad, I go here. Whenever I feel a little giddy, I go here. Whenever I am depressed and want to cry all night, I go here and whenever I am so happy I can hardly contain myself, I go here. This is just a place for all seasons, and I can't help but to feel entirely at peace whenever I open the doors and see all those books just waiting for me, which I'm sure they don't. I admit I read a lot of books (a lot, too many, a lot), but The Strand makes me want to drown myself in words, and start a bookclub and be a better writer and everything else that has anything to do with words and the literary world. This is quite simply, as stated, my happy place in New York, and I would probably evaporate if it ever ceased to exist. But thankfully that seems unlikely. This is, after all, The Strand. 
No comments:
Post a Comment