Three

*that he was glad that the book store would not close and maybe leave room for another sex shop. Sohrab, who apparently didn't have more customers than me, then made himself comfortable in the stores only*

*reading chair. An old armchair that was placed near the counter, accompanied by a formerly veneered table which now was covered by a table cloth in an attempt to hide what time had done to it. There wasn't*

*much room in the store except for that little space. The rest was occupied by book shelves that were packed so closely together that a person even a little bit above average size would have a problem*

*squeezing in between them. In the afternoon the sun found it's way between the houses and in through the window and you could see the dust dancing in the air, glowing and sparkling as if the stories in all*

*the books had escaped the pages and filled the air. It didn't take me very long to adapt to this new way of being, with far more books and silence and way less people than I was used to. I had a room on top*

*of the store but in the beginning I was hardly there except for sleeping. The rest of the time I'd spend in the store or out on the streets. I would walk for hours, from the busy main streets to the outskirts*

*of town and back again. If I stepped on every stone of it I could maybe make it mine. If I knew every alley and prong, every scent from every last little falafel stand, maybe I'd feel at home. I'd stop at the*