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Used book stores are dangerous places for me. The musty smell of the books has some sort of chemical, intoxifying effect that renders me interested in everything and I end up spending far too much time and money. Yesterday, I went into Athabasca Books, which is located a stones throw away from a large, two-level Chapters store yet seems to hold its own quite well. There was a mint condition, hardcover copy of Various Positions: A Life of Leonard Cohen that I couldn't pass up. Then, I came across an Anais Nin Reader which is full of excerpts from her wide range of literary works. And then, a beautiful edition of Tolstoy's Anna Karenina sat at the end of a bookshelf and I snatched that up as well. If anyone is looking for me in the next little while, I'll be the girl sitting in the corner with my nose buried in a book.

At one point, standing beside me, was a very attractive guy wearing a lovely grey sweater and funky glasses who was perusing a Henry Miller novel. I would have loved to start up a conversation with him, ask him to go for coffee, etc. but shyness filled my entire being and I couldn't even smile in his direction. Sigh. I feel so out of practice in starting up conversations with strangers. If anyone has any tips to share, I am all ears : )