THE HOUR BEFORE
My favorite time in the bookstore: the hour before opening the doors for the day. The store is lit only by soft morning light; here in West Marin, it’s often gauzy as the fog slowly burns off. The shadows angle neatly under the display tables, and a feeling of sanctuary envelops the space. A quietness that’s soon disturbed by conversation and crowds. Not ruined by those things, just interrupted; this interruption is the natural order of things. That quietness is always there, beneath the bustle of commerce, the voices of children, the conversations that arise when people and books meet.
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