A Trip To A Bookshop
Late one night in autumn, unable to sleep, I found myself walking the deserted city-streets. For what seemed like hours I passed empty taxi ranks blown with wet leaves and litter, shop fronts shuttered with graffiti, and the black windows of closed takeaways. Suddenly I found I was walking through a wash of light coming from a large shop whose interior was brightly lit and whose entrance was open. A soft, tinkling music invited me in to the clean, spacious shop-floor. There were no customers, nor, as far as I could see, any members of staff. I began to browse the shelves.
I decided against making any purchases and wandered back out into the night.
