I had a whole Saturday afternoon to myself this past weekend. I took a stroll down to Barnes & Noble and spent the afternoon sipping coffee and words. While there, I was just getting comfortable into noticing only the voices of the books, not necessarily the voices of people in the store.
Eventually, I settled into the Cafe to write. While collecting my thoughts, I noticed the man over at the next table. He had a stack of books on the subjects of photography, sketching, laptops, and more that I couldn’t see. (I wasn’t trying to be rude and stalker-like). As presumptuous as it is to say, his features looked paternal, like he had a family back home. As his back was to me, I noticed later that he was looking through books for ideas, and he was sketching in a sketch notebook with special pencils. He even had stencils and a hole punch in tow.
On this Saturday afternoon, I found a certain solidarity with this man. We never shared eye contact or exchanged words, but it felt like I was sharing coffee with him– just knowing that he was sitting at a table, enjoying himself while sketching, and I was sitting near him, writing, reminded me that Saturdays are for activities that matter to us, outside of the work world.
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leafless said:
Speaking of bookstores, I haven’t visited one for sometime. I might make a trip to my local Barnes & Noble this Saturday. Maybe I’ll encounter a similar experience then.
July 9, 2008 @ 4:21 pm
Jacqueline Johnson said:
You should! I find a kind of solitude in a bookstore unlike anywhere else.
July 9, 2008 @ 5:17 pm