About two years ago my son gave me a small bonsai tree for Father’s Day which I named “Firdinand.” For most of the first two years I just handled the basics: sunlight, water and protection from freezing. The tree survived and basically looked like a little shrub.
There’s something about an old bookstore. It’s a completely different experience from visiting a new bookseller with bright lighting and clean, colorful shelves hocking titles from the bestsellers list. That’s a commercial enterprise. Entering an old book shop, by contrast, is like embarking on a treasure hunt or an archaeological dig. You never know what you’ll discover hidden away on those dim, dusty shelves.