Days at the Morisaki Bookshop
The perfect book to curl up with - for lovers of Japanese translated fiction everywhere
From the beginning of summer to early spring, I lived at the Morisaki Bookshop. I spent that period of my life in the spare room on the second floor of the store, trying to bury myself in books. The cramped room barely got any light, and everything felt damp. It smelled constantly of musty old books.
But I will always remember the days I spent there. Because that's where my real life began. And I know, without a doubt, that if not for those days the rest of my life would have been bland, monotonous, and lonely.
The Morisaki Bookshop is precious to me. It's a place I know I'll never forget.