Tonight, I felt restless in our apartment, so I decided to take a walk, which was an admittedly bad idea, seeing as how the sky was cloudy and thunder echoed through the apartment complex. I threw on my hoody and headed out, walking across Buford highway over to a used bookstore.
Atlanta Vintage Books is a bit of an anomaly in my hood, a literary haven with all sorts of literature, a great bargain basement, and two friendly owners. Not what you'd expect in a neighborhood full of immigrants who struggle to speak English. I arrived fifteen minutes before closing, and the owner greeted me and invited me in.
We immediately began telling stories about spending Friday nights in bookstores or libraries, and we talked about our common love for reading, which sometimes overwhelms our desire to hang with friends or do usual Friday night things.
I headed down to the basement to see if they had any copies of the James Joyce books I hadn't read. No luck. I found three other books (The Ugly American, The Hamlet, and Heat and Dust) that interested me and returned upstairs to check out. The sky had turned completely dark in the five minutes I spent downstairs, and rain poured down across Clairmont.
"I gotta walk home in this," I complained.
"We'll give you a ride," the owner responded cheerfully. Only in our neighborhood, I thought, and gladly accepted.
On the way home, we talked about the joy of living in Atlanta's international village, our love for the mix of cultures in this city, and what Ruthie and I do in the neighborhood.
This is one of the joys of living here. I had an unexpected opportunity to connect with someone who shares my interests, and he showed me a kindness I had not expected. It wasn't a big event, but it brought some joy to me to connect with an odd little corner of our neighborhood, and enjoy an unplanned moment of friendship.
great stuff!
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