I worked in a bookshop between 1996 and 2002. What a brilliant job that was for a book nerd like me! To my mind, there is something almost sacred and spiritual about books, and walking into a beautiful bookshop is akin to entering a church. Books are my religion, I have to admit.
One of the best parts of my job was looking through the secondhand books (the shop sold both new and used books), cleaning and dusting them before placing them on the shelves for sale. I found many forgotten bookmarks tucked inside those fusty pages. Once I stumbled across a lock of Victorian hair, which was macabre, but so pretty and ethereal. I found numerous postcards, receipts, bank notes and newspaper and magazine clippings. My favorite finds were the letters, always fascinating, always giving away something of the writer. One in particular caught my eye and my imagination.