I don’t like shopping. Probably because I don’t particularly love stuff. And shopping involves looking at stuff that doesn’t belong to me, at a place away from my home, surrounded by other people, and having to pay money if I want to bring anything back to my home, away from other people.
It’s exhausting.
But I have one exception to my dislike of shopping. Wedding dress shopping. Just kidding. It’s book shopping. Obviously. Because a bookstore isn’t filled with stuff—it’s filled with books. And sure, the books aren’t my books, but many of them are books I’ve read before. I could spend hours walking through a bookstore, pointing out books I’ve already and filtering back through the memories.
In a bookstore, I’m not surrounded by just other people—I’m surrounded by fellow readers. And fellow readers are quieter, gentler, and more respectful when shopping. If I want to purchase something at a bookstore, I’m not just buying something—I’m investing into myself.
Because shopping at a bookstore isn’t actually shopping. It’s picking out a new book. It’s partaking in a community of readers. It’s supporting a local literary establishment. It’s walking through a museum of past books. It’s an experience above mere commerce.