Ali Marie Matthews

Imagine this… You’re walking down a busy city street– people everywhere, cars honking, sights and smells overwhelming your senses. Your heart is racing and you want to find a quiet place to get away from it all. You turn the corner and spot a bookshop down a quiet cobblestone street. You walk toward it. The sounds become muffled, the smells drift away, and as you get closer, a sense of peace begins to warm you from the inside out. You see the sign on the door says “open” and your heart starts beating a little faster, this time, with excitement rather than a feeling of being overwhelmed. 

 

You push open the door and a bell jingles as you walk inside. You breathe in the smell of paper and ink and smile. You look to the left and see the young sales associate with bright blue hair look up from their book. “Good morning,” they say. You greet them and spot a sleeping cat on the counter next to them, the soft sound of their snores is a whisper in the quiet space, their breath causing a small rainbow flag hanging from a display to sway. You walk farther inside and browse the tables and shelves. The store is a labyrinth, one you wouldn’t mind getting lost in for a little while. One book catches your eye. On the front is a postcard, a stamp, and the Eiffel Tower. You turn the book over to read the back cover and you are transported. 

 

You’re now in Paris, overlooking the river. The sounds of cameras flashing and maps crinkling all around you. You read a bit more and you feel the change again. You’re in the South of France now, standing on a barge; a mobile bookshop. You hear the waves crashing and the salty breeze joins the smell of pages and ink. The books around you are older. The man selling these books is also older. He asks how he can help. You tell him about feeling a little lost. “I have a book for that,” he tells you. 

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