This is my first attempt at an easel musing so go easy on me. Thanks :)
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I love the smell of books; I always have. There have been many bookstores I've visited in my life, each one unique and precious to me. However, there is one that stands out above all the rest. I stumbled across it on vacation in England one year. My husband wanted to go off by himself and do all the manly things that I really had no interest in, so I set off to explore the small town in which we were staying. It was a beautiful bookshop. There were flowers on the outside in many wonderful colors along with a bench where I hardly ever saw anyone sitting. The moment you stepped in the shop the smell wafted to your nostrils; the smell of years of opening and closing of pages. It was the smell of being loved and cherished. It was the smell of years of wisdom. It was the smell of courage and bravery, cowardice and cunning, stealth and weakness - stories of every kind. The books just sat there in a rainbow of colors, and I took a minute to look around cherishing everything I saw. I never bought much at these stores; for me it was just being able to look. It was being able to imagine the lives that these books had touched. Why was this bookstore special to me? I think it was the sense I got in touching the books. I could tell that they had been well-loved and taken care of. The owner came up to me while I was browsing, and it was all I could do not to hug the man. "Thank you, sir. Thank you for taking such wonderful care of these books. Thank you for giving these orphans a new chance for life."
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Comments: 44
I think it needs more descriptive words. I will give you an example.
(It was a beautiful bookshop. There were flowers on the outside in many wonderful colors along with a bench where I hardly ever saw anyone sitting.)
These two sentences jumped out at me. Here's how you might punch it up a bit.
It was a beautiful book shop, flowers weaved themselves in colorful arrays along a wooden bench outside, where no one seemed to sit.
(The moment you stepped in the shop the smell wafted to your nostrils; the smell of years of opening and closing of pages. It was the smell of being loved and cherished.)
Here's how you might want to edit and make it flow better.
The moment you stepped inside the shop, the smell of time, like years of opening and closing pages hit you full force. The smell of books being well loved and cherished.
(It was the smell of years of wisdom. It was the smell of courage and bravery, cowardice and cunning, stealth and weakness - stories of every kind.)
It became the smell of wisdom, of courage, bravery, cowardice and cunning, stealth and weakness, stories of many kinds that permeated throughout all the pages.
(The books just sat there in a rainbow of colors, and I took a minute to look around cherishing everything I saw.)
The books, all in a varying array of rainbow colors, sat before my eyes, and I a had to take a minute to glance around, to cherish everything I could see, or touch.
(I never bought much at these stores; for me it was just being able to look. It was being able to imagine the lives that these books had touched. Why was this bookstore special to me? I think it was the sense I got in touching the books. I could tell that they had been well-loved and taken care of.)
It had never been truly about buying much at this kind of store, it was just about being able to look, to imagine the lives these books had touched. Why was this book store so special to me? I think it must be the sense I received, that these books had been well loved and taken care of.
(The owner came up to me while I was browsing, and it was all I could do not to hug the man. "Thank you, sir. Thank you for taking such wonderful care of these books. Thank you for giving these orphans a new chance for life.")
The owner came to me, amongst my thoughts and while my browsing still commenced, and it was all I could do not to hug the man.
"Thank you sir. Thanks so much for taking care of these books. And, most of all, for giving these orphans a new chance at life."
Okay, I'm done. You can heed my advice or not.
As a book lover myself, I can understand everything you wrote here.
Great job, loved the short story!
I love the smell of the old time bookstores too!
One of my favorite subjects and you did a great job with it.
arlene,
University Place florist
Theodore Parker wrote,”The books that help you the most are those which make you think the most.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “Some books leave us free and some books make us free.”
W. H. Auden wrote, “A real book is not one that we read, but one that reads us.”