The Animosity of Bookshops

Bookshops to me are like a large, new forest to a dog desperate to pee, with trees not urinated on by any other animal just yet - so many territories to mark, and the forest is its oyster. In that same sense, despite having been touched and picked up and put back by so many strangers, my mind deviates from the fingerprints located on the covers and focuses on the subject at hand: books. Books, everywhere.

And today, I stumbled upon one of these bookshops. It was not much of a stumble, mind you, because today marked the day of my first lecture as an Education student in her third year, and in that lecture it was as though I fell asleep and dreamt that the lecturer asked of us to purchase four novels - only I was awake, well and truly awake and it really happened. I instantly thought of the two hundred dollars I had in my bank account and how I would happily spend them on class texts and class texts alone, alas the minute I set foot in the bookstore, which is not out of the ordinary as I am always buying class readers, I sensed something was different. Something quite large had differed from my last visit here. There was a change in the layout of the books located within the store, and more importantly, a larger variety.

And when I say large, I truly mean large. I am emphasising the largeness of the variety I was faced with - take your idea of 'large' and expand it thrice its size, and that is indeed the variety I was faced with today. When I say variety, I mean different objects for different purposes all encompassing my very interests - graphic novels, comic books the size of novels, decorative art journals, decorative writing journals, decomposition books, assortments of pens and pacers and other stationery, fiction books, non-fiction books, everything and anything in the literary sphere that aroused my interest was there. I could not think. I stood there, overpowered by these inanimate objects, all of which screamed "buy me!"

With all my excitement somewhat contained after having spent my first five minutes in there with my mouth wide open with amusement and awe, I headed to the shelves where my class texts were located. They had over-stocked them this time, and there was no need to viciously attack someone in order to take their book which was rightfully mine in the first place even though they had been in the bookshop longer than I have and had had full ownership rights of the book that I now held: I do not do this anyway, but when the time comes that books become scarce because of the amount of ebooks and the continuous transformation of technology, I will do all that I can to ensure that books that I want will be acquired by me, by all means both necessary and unnecessary.

The line itself to legally own the books I held was like an immobile stampede. I stood there, struggling to carry the weight of the compiled papers in my hands. I felt as though I were a vulture too full to finish off the rest of the deer that a cheetah left me. Too neglectful to abandon the deer, I soldier on. I was inspired by the continuity of the others who took part of this financially educational stampede, and took pride that I was further ahead in the line than most, having to cramp myself against a bookshelf rather than another spontaneous sweaty human. 

The books now await the scanning of my eyes. I shall pounce onto each page like a hungry lion, seeking to kill the readings and take from them my serve of nutrients, which will enrich my mind. I still adore bookshops, despite the animosity of being in one.