Sometimes your past comes to bite you in your arse.

We have been running this republic for a little over five years and have happily sold a whole bunch of books in the short time that we have been around. In the beginning we had issues with actually putting up a lot of books that well, we were attached to or were attached to us. It was hard, sacrifices had been made. Many memories, many customers, many associations, a few lovers all frozen in time. Every once in awhile though you get a blast from the past.

Last week one of our suppliers landed up at the store with a lot of book, happy times buying books – and we do it everyday.

A book stood out, hardback, covered.

It beckoned.

I look at the cover.

A familiar face.

I smile running my fore finger lovingly down her deckled edge.

I open the book, take a deep whiff, so intoxicating.

Close the book look at its rear end, it has our tag.

Freeze frame, we had this book four years ago and I remember the customer who bought the book.

I buy the book along with a bunch of others.

While tagging the books, I come across a book of poems inscribed for the customer.

I ask the supplier where he got the books, he is a little reluctant.

I tell him I am not going to judge him or go after his source.

He relents.

I wonder what has happened to this customer.

Where is she right now.

Has she left her neighbourhood? The city ? This continent ?

Is she dearly departed?

From what I remember an image of getting books from this woman would be trying to pry a witches stash of dried toad nuts from her dying fingers.

Or maybe someone from your past walked into the store with the sole intention of biting you in our arse.

ass munchto begin where i am, Czeslaw Milosz

One thought on “Sometimes your past comes to bite you in your arse.

  1. Pingback: Låt aldrig din rollfigur minnas | Element X

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