Always at the back of my mind was the fact that there was a bookstore near wherever I lived that I could pop into and get a few books. I am a serial reader…I have a few books in various stages of completion, some new books that need to be read, some that I have abandoned and maybe will go back to when I am older and wiser or a couple that I have totally outgrown.
A visit to a bookshop used to be a great idea of an outing…to browse, to smell the tonnes of books emanating inviting smells, streaking rainbow hues around the walls and aisles of shelves. I used to feel like a kid let loose in a candy store and this was my comfort zone. The comfort quotient was enhanced when sofas and stools were added by the managements to let me sit and read bits and pieces that would help me choose the book to buy. I would flip through magazines and quickly update the gossip about stars, styles and sundry trivia. Cookbooks would delight all the senses and I would take in the smorgasbord of dishes and culinary delights and a few tips as well.
After many months, I walked into a bookshop about a month ago and again yesterday…both in a mall. The comfort levels were gone, the desire to buy a book was gone, the longing to browse and select one or two printed material amongst a basketful of hopefuls was absent. The prices were high, the books dark and gloomy and the same old authors and titles all done with.
Now I have to look for a new comfort zone to visit, I have to choose a new destination for periodic outings! Bookshops are now a hodgepodge of merchandise, with very few books!