It wasn’t just a grove. It was a magical, mystical jungle of living, breathing giants that left Shaan awe struck. Neither of them spoke as they ambled slowly on the well-worn dirt paths and listened to the trees, some almost two thousand years old, as they related tales of times gone by. Of emperors, and kings and queens, and of battles fought for love and for greed.
A sudden transformation came over Ruhi when they came upon a fallen tree. She leaned against the dead trunk; her frame dwarfed by its girth, then closed her eyes and whispered in a voice rife with melancholy. “Who am I but a speck of dust this poor soul can’t even see?”
Shaan couldn’t keep his emotions in check. He hauled her into his arms and they wept together as they grieved for their mutual loss.
INDIE or INDEPENDENT also means FREEDOM and when applied to the written word that’s a wonderful sensation. And that’s exactly how I felt when stepping into this wonderful historic bookstore called CITY LIGHTS in the North Beach neighborhood of San Francisco abutting China town. Founded in 1953 as the only all-paperback book store by poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Peter D. Martin, it’s collection of world literature, art and progressive politics attracts book lovers from all over the world.
As if that isn’t wonderful enough, the alley right next to it, named Jack Kerouac after the well known beat generation American poet and writer, is well worth walking through.