september 5th: bookshops

After I got home from school in the 7th, I ran down the hill of Saint Jacques to the Abbey bookshop. I walked down Rue de Parcheminerie by the Eglise Saint Severin and found cartons of books teetering outside of a small shop that was glowing yellow, the colour of aging pages, cheap light bulbs, strong tea, and well-polished wood. A friendly looking man greeted me at the doorway and whisked my list - “This looks like you are an AUP student!” - down the aisles created by piles of books, slid shelves of books along the walls to reveal more shelves behind them, and quickly found all the novels I was looking for. I sighed, my murky mood niggling its way into the French-Canadian Novels section, and replied, “Yes; I think I will be spending a lot of time here.” He pointed me in the direction of the Shakespeare section and I got lost in the Travel section. I read Verlaine in the back and Laclos in the basement before signing my name to join the mailing list of events in Paris.

I wandered down to find Shakespeare and Company just behind a park off the Seine, across from Notre Dame. A poetry reading was just finishing and there was writing in chalk on the front of the shop, newspaper clippings and quotes scattered among the books, and posters covering the old converted monastery. Beds were tucked into the art history and children’s sections, almost unnoticed for the colourful spread on top of them.

There was a wedding at the church next to the Pantheon - a small affair made more modest by the dominating presence of Les Grandes Hommes next door, but I could feel the smiles of the people pushing their cheeks out, stretching past the rose petals they tossed & made float, & stretching my mouth into a small smile, too.