Bookish Monday : Shakespeare & Company

Paris is a city of stories, and some of them linger

 in the air long after their authors have gone. 

Shakespeare and Company is one of those places where time 

folds in on itself - where the past and present sit side by side, 

whispering to one another in the quiet rustle of turning pages.

Stepping inside, the scent of old paper and ink clung 
to the air, mingling with the faint hum of conversation. 

Books stacked in precarious towers, their spines worn from 
years of eager hands, seemed to lean in, listening. 

It was a place that felt alive, not just with the presence 
of readers, but with the ghosts of writers who had 
once wandered these aisles, searching for words 
that might outlive them.

There was excitement in pulling a book from the shelf, 

tracing the faded imprint of a name scrawled inside 

the cover, wondering who had held it before me. 

The shop was a labyrinth of stories, each corner offering 
something unexpected. A poetry reading in the back room, 
a traveler lost in thought by the window, a quiet nod 
exchanged between strangers who understood 
the sacredness of this space.

In the quiet of Shakespeare and Company, the world felt 
different - smaller, more intimate, as if the 
city itself had paused to listen.

I left with a book tucked under my arm, its pages filled 
with words that would follow me long after I had gone. 

Shakespeare and Company is not just a bookshop; 
it is a refuge, a dream, a lingering echo of something 
both fleeting and eternal. It is the kind of place 
that stays with you, long after you have stepped back 
into the streets of Paris, long after the city 
has swallowed you whole.

♥