Exploring Bookshops in London
Bookshops are a majestical place. Despite it being the stories themselves that transport you to distant lands and new experiences, I often find meticulously plodding the aisles in a bookshop to be an escape in itself. There is a tonic in silently floating past rows and rows of titles, different colours, fonts, sizes, languages. It is the same mysterious quality that the air in a museum takes up. Everyone is quiet, reduced to acting with just their eyes, occasionally pulling a book from a shelf and silently flicking through its pages. There is an element of respect that bookshops pump out into their air. The world slows down, takes on a different shape, and allows you to wander away from the weight of the world, and simply exist. Books have always been special to me. Since I can remember there has been a book on the go in my life. More than one at times. I fell in love with the escapism that losing myself in the pages of a book can do. There’s a well known saying that collecting books a...
