As a librarian

Last Sunday I went to my favorite bookshop and the librarian was talking to everyone about their books at check out. It made me happy. It made me want to talk more with him, but I always worry I'll disturb people. It made me think that maybe I woul love to be a librarian, talk about books all day long. I would feel useful in some ways.

Sometimes I get stressed and I forget how much words have done for me. When I didn't want to talk to anyone nor get out of my bed for months they were there. I forget how much comfort books bring to me. I believe it's because I put too much pressure on myself. That was my thing before, and I was okay with that. It felt exclusive. Maybe trying to put my thing out to the world was not the right move for me. Yet, whenever I speak about my thing I know my eyes enlighten. I know my face lights up and my voice becomes real. I know I need to share my thing to the world, and that will not diminish how much it's mine and how much it's me, rather it will amplify my love for it.

I bought American Psycho and the librarian told me he too wanted to read the original version. I could have stayed there for for hours, until the doors were closed and the moon was high. I went home and drank a tea and thought about it. I am still thinking about it.