And don't forget the pills, Bertha
For over one year I came regularly to an antique bookstore in my neighbourhood. The owner of the store is a friendly old man and I was very attracted by the special atmosphere of the location. The store is filled with wooden bookshelves and books to the ceiling. Even if I am booklover, every time I approached the store, I noticed that this antique bookstore evoked an ambiguous sensation in me. On one side I could pass hours in the store, dive deep into the wonderful stories and rich wisdom present in thousands of books, but on the other side I felt somehow sorry as I noticed that this kind of atmosphere and attitude is becoming less frequent nowadays.
I was imagining that antique bookstores like this one would maybe disappear at some time as the information stored on the shelves is loosing its interest for most people and can be accessed digitally if needed. For this reason, I started to bring my camera on every visit to the store, trying to capture what I was fearing could disappear some day. After one year, I felt that this project will come soon to an end. The numerous conversations I had with the owner about books, the business and life in general have been of great inspiration for me.
On a rainy afternoon, my visits already had become less regular, I discovered some boxes on the attic of the bookstore. Within those boxes I found hundreds of small papers, notes, postcards, photos, etc. When I asked the owner of the bookstore about the story of those boxes and their content, I could not believe the answer. It was the abundant collection of bookmarks found in old used books the owner had purchased for his business. And while I was still stunned by the sheer amount and versatility of bookmarks used and archived, the owner confessed to me, that he could not throw them away, as most of them had been very personal things for someone.
