#bookstore magic

[littlesoapsud]

“Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers.” - Charles William Eliot

Quiet bookshop in Monterey, California

[the-bookish-wanderer]

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Because unless you've been there you cannot understand the magic ✨📚 (at Chamblin Bookmine)

[karafying]

Sauces and Remodeling

They talk about recipes, “Sometimes what I do is make it in smaller batches, instead of a deep pot, I make it in a low pot. It works better that way.” Taking sips of tea in between sentences about sauces and the effort needed to boil down tomatoes, completely unaware of me sitting no more than two feet away. They both have one leg crossed over the other, drops of water fall from their boots and drip onto the rug, absorbing it as a tissue would to a falling tear.

Friends, what a strange concept, someone you can go on a walk with, sip on overly hot herbal tea, and discuss such trivial things like the remodeling of a kitchen and the high price of granite. “We found some cheap stuff in Lowes, we liked the looks of it. But you have more counter space than I do.” Friends, somehow coming together in a world much bigger than their own, like onions and garlic being poured into the pot of crushed tomatoes.

Will we ever all be so lucky? Lucky enough to have someone with whom we can sit with on a Thursday afternoon and flip through a gardening book after coming in from a walk. Lucky enough to block out the troubles of everything else, in order to discuss when the right time to plant bulbs is. Lucky enough to have part of you in someone else, who knows your life and the size of your kitchen. What a beautiful thing friendship is, the kind of relationship free from the worries which accompany intimate relationships.

"Hi Tom!" "Hey Ladies!"  they respond in unison as a man walks by the couch they are sharing. In their own world, completely engulfed in a exciting discussion about tiles, like a child telling their parents about a vivid dream. Will we ever all be so lucky? 

Another drop of water falls from her boot, meeting the rug below. Another sip, another anecdote about an outdoor shower, and another page being turned in the gardening book.

They start laughing, “Oh I just read the sticker on your computer, how funny.” They say to me, coming out of their world for a moment. They ask where I’m from and we laugh about uncanny connections between myself and them. “Oh that’s near Pauls workshop!” Suddenly I have become a drop of olive oil, falling with them into the pot of crushed tomatoes.