August 10, 2011


I love this place. I adore it. Whether I am alone or with others, it never ceases to be anything less than magical to me.I was there about two weeks ago (and have, of course, been back since), and this time I had the pleasure of bringing with me someone who never seen it before (The Gentleman Caller, as Mum refers to him). The afternoon was already proving to be one of the summer’s best — sunny and hot-but-not-too-hot, and full of running little NYU errands, iced coffee from my favorite coffee man (who remembered me, even though I haven’t seen him since May — I cherish the little things), the newly opened other half of Washington Square Park, finishing reading a truly excellent piece of literature while sitting in a second lovely park, scribbling away in my Moleskine in a third beautiful park (Union Square, to be exact), meeting The Gent, perusing farmer’s markets, drinking smoothies, walking, discussing public art pieces, sitting together on a bench and looking at dogs, impromptu live music… I’m talking the works here — and a visit to the Strand, as always, just put the damn icing on the cake.The sheer size of this building makes it feel like you’re being embraced the moment you walk in. Those towering shelves crowd you in the best way. As The Gent and I stood amongst them, pointing out poetry and poking through the books of photographs taken by people we admired and looking at old auction catalogs and declaring love for certain people and places and things, I felt perhaps more at ease than I have in a very, very long time. And none of the bad things crossed my mind, and anxiety had no presence there, and I just didn’t want any of it to end. I want that forever. Oh, New York. You’re magical.

I love this place. I adore it. Whether I am alone or with others, it never ceases to be anything less than magical to me.


I was there about two weeks ago (and have, of course, been back since), and this time I had the pleasure of bringing with me someone who never seen it before (The Gentleman Caller, as Mum refers to him). The afternoon was already proving to be one of the summer’s best — sunny and hot-but-not-too-hot, and full of running little NYU errands, iced coffee from my favorite coffee man (who remembered me, even though I haven’t seen him since May — I cherish the little things), the newly opened other half of Washington Square Park, finishing reading a truly excellent piece of literature while sitting in a second lovely park, scribbling away in my Moleskine in a third beautiful park (Union Square, to be exact), meeting The Gent, perusing farmer’s markets, drinking smoothies, walking, discussing public art pieces, sitting together on a bench and looking at dogs, impromptu live music… I’m talking the works here — and a visit to the Strand, as always, just put the damn icing on the cake.



The sheer size of this building makes it feel like you’re being embraced the moment you walk in. Those towering shelves crowd you in the best way. As The Gent and I stood amongst them, pointing out poetry and poking through the books of photographs taken by people we admired and looking at old auction catalogs and declaring love for certain people and places and things, I felt perhaps more at ease than I have in a very, very long time. And none of the bad things crossed my mind, and anxiety had no presence there, and I just didn’t want any of it to end. I want that forever. Oh, New York. You’re magical.

22 notes
tags #strand books #strand #bookstore #new york #new york city

22 Notes

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