There was a favorite secondhand bookstore in a corner of the city that once lived. When going there, old shopkeepers with habit will recommend cigarettes. While enjoying a cigarette slowly by themselves, I enjoyed a conversation that would not be a conversation. Always the shopkeeper cheaper the price of the book I want, sometimes gave me a book. There are people who borrowed books and have been using the library. That bookstore is no longer. There are no old shop owner already saying that he is doing a second-hand book shop for 50 years or more. The old ones take the story and sadness as natural as they do before me and go away. The time passed is still turning around me around the sound like a good piano.
