Senses
It is a truth of mine that clutter can bring frustration. Yet on the sunniest days when people walk up and down High Street, I find myself at the thrift store below the arch. Even with all its mess and clutter from the inside out, this place never fails to bring me peace.
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The smell of popcorn being sold outside is the first thing that welcomes me. Then I am made to feel at home with the continued thick smell of old and new incense, which is always different from the previous day but carries the continued smell of cigarettes.
The bookshelves are piled up with books probably as old as me, reminding me of my room, filled with books that serve the purpose of making me feel less lonely. Very few people that come here actually buy books because most of them are covered with the thick layer of dust that flies around the air and can be seen through the glare of light coming through the two small windows of the store.
We may be the only two strangers in this small rectangular thrift store, but between the conversations of the people walking outside, the few people that come in to request the price of either clothing or beaded jewellery, the coffee shop next door and the countless dream catchers hanging from the roof that whisper past conversations of the people that have been here. The atmosphere is far from feeling empty or quiet.
I believe it is because of all the clothes hanging around the room as though covering the thin walls and the second-hand key rings hanging on screws that this store feels alive, dark and comfortable. The thrift store will make you think you are craving the fugue and cookies that have probably been there for less than a week. Whether I’m buying something or not, the thrift store compels me to want to look inside.
