So this is how it feels the morning after. Last night, I emptied the tiny room that had been my second home for nearly five years. For months, I had been preparing to leave. Last night, left without much choice, I finally pulled out the two remaining bags of old books covered with the thickest dust.
It's not easy. Datelines Bookshop after all, had been my second home for nearly five years. Its walls witnessed too many experiences which are all partly the reasons I am my own mold now. The inner room, for instance, saw and heard the best and worst --the laughter, the tears, the endless nights of both joy and pain.
In this place, I've met some of the greatest men and women. I have had the pleasure of seeing artists, journalists, writers, poets, cultural workers, pilgrims and drifters while their time in this wonderful haven I co-own.
But most good things come to an end. This was no exception. I, albeit painfully, finally said goodbye to the bookshop. I had no choice. Responsibilities have been forgotten. Promises were broken. Cowardice got the better of us. Commitments were not honored. The passion fizzled out. Love flew out of the window and last but not least, a business partner's wife got in the way.
Like most goodbyes, however, this one isn't for good. Someday, somewhere in this great big universe, at another dateline, it will again be possible.
In the meantime, thank you to each and everyone who joined the journey.