I miss the smell of books and the stores that use to rent space to them.
Where is the music of promise created by footfalls on warped floorboards beckoning me toward an unexamined stack? The Strand will sing to me again.
Magic both light and dark still awaits discovery. It is just rarely found anymore in a wonderfully haphazardly piled arrangement.
I must seek out grander examples of the hallowed halls I miss and that are worthy of such memories. Munro's will help me in my quest.