It was the worst of times it was the best of times
Today I went to Borders for one last time.
It was really depressing. The books were strewn everywhere: shelves, tables, bargain bins, on the floor. People were rummaging through the 2 for $20 DVDs. Large sections of the place was cordoned off. The Childrens' section still had the colourful carpet with the childish stars but everything else was gone. Everything was at once familiar and yet so different. It felt strange, seeing this place that I grew up with, reduced almost to deriliction and desolation. I looked at all the people, these bargain-hunters, scrambling for books that they would probably never read, and I felt like screaming, "Where the hell have you been over the years?"
I honestly can't believe Borders is closing, after all these years. Yes, it may have been on the decline for some months now. Yes, the book selection and organization can't compare to Kino's. But it was cosy and welcoming, with the wooden shelves and leather arm chairs and liberal browsing policy. It was a bookstore and more. I went there to kill time when I was in town or at Parkway. To check out the latest books and movies. To just wander around through the labyrinth of bookshelves and Paperchase knick-knacks. I still remember the bistro at Wheelock, and all the memories it held. And quite suddenly, its gone, and I'm not quite sure where else I'm going to go to get my book-fix. Kino just doesn't have the same charm and appeal, with its impersonal white walls and too-bright lights and towering bookcases. It's like this great upheaval in my life; Borders shutting down changes a lot. The one thing that keeps coming to mind is the realization that those black BORDERS plastic bags will pretty soon stop being a fixture in my house.
It occurs to me that I have got to stop getting so emotionally attached to things. It would be so much easier if I could just watch the things (or people) I love disappear from my life, accept it, and just move on without so much as a nostalgic glance back.
It was really depressing. The books were strewn everywhere: shelves, tables, bargain bins, on the floor. People were rummaging through the 2 for $20 DVDs. Large sections of the place was cordoned off. The Childrens' section still had the colourful carpet with the childish stars but everything else was gone. Everything was at once familiar and yet so different. It felt strange, seeing this place that I grew up with, reduced almost to deriliction and desolation. I looked at all the people, these bargain-hunters, scrambling for books that they would probably never read, and I felt like screaming, "Where the hell have you been over the years?"
I honestly can't believe Borders is closing, after all these years. Yes, it may have been on the decline for some months now. Yes, the book selection and organization can't compare to Kino's. But it was cosy and welcoming, with the wooden shelves and leather arm chairs and liberal browsing policy. It was a bookstore and more. I went there to kill time when I was in town or at Parkway. To check out the latest books and movies. To just wander around through the labyrinth of bookshelves and Paperchase knick-knacks. I still remember the bistro at Wheelock, and all the memories it held. And quite suddenly, its gone, and I'm not quite sure where else I'm going to go to get my book-fix. Kino just doesn't have the same charm and appeal, with its impersonal white walls and too-bright lights and towering bookcases. It's like this great upheaval in my life; Borders shutting down changes a lot. The one thing that keeps coming to mind is the realization that those black BORDERS plastic bags will pretty soon stop being a fixture in my house.
It occurs to me that I have got to stop getting so emotionally attached to things. It would be so much easier if I could just watch the things (or people) I love disappear from my life, accept it, and just move on without so much as a nostalgic glance back.