Javier would have a pile of books waiting for me whenever I showed up at his bookshop. His selection was based on our conversations, during which he had discovered my dissertation topic, my previous studies, my professional experience, my broad interest in music, as well as the purchases I had made. Naturally, he would ask about my hockey team back home and also bitch about the local soccer team losing, again, and possibly dropping to a lower division.

Javier lived in a relatively small city. A provincial capital, for sure, but relatively small. I haven’t found a Javier in the big cities I came home to. But I try: I go to a local bookstore, find three books I want to buy, and then take them to one of the employees and ask them to pick me a fourth.

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photo by Olya P