Bookstores

 Someday, a new ambition so overwhelming will hit me and I will feel smothered. I'll cut myself off from hobbies and pastimes--forget writing, forget painting, forget making music, even--all of them except for reading, because books are where all other purposes for me stem from.

 I'll take a little bit of money and open a book store, a modest one with warm colored lighting, handmade mugs for coffee and hot chocolate, velvet chaise lounges, and local original art covering my walls.

 I have lists and lists of things I want to do--things for today, this week, this year, things for every area of interest. I am a schemer. But when I settle down at night, curl around my daughter and let my mind wind down, I crave simplicity.

So someday I'll put my energy into this, placing loved books into new hands so that new eyes can read the words and make new thoughts. It could possibly be my life's great work, the end-all of my ambitions: a used bookstore.

I judge cities based on their bookstores. I judge people by their bookshelves.