A few weeks ago, my friend took me to Kubrick, a bookstore-cafe that’s off my usual beaten path. Located in Yau Ma Tei, connected to the art house Broadway Cinematheque, this store had a charming air of authenticity and character that was so refreshing to walk into.
I am such a bookworm, and found myself digging into the stacks and stacks of obscure titles that I wouldn’t normally see in other bookstores. The reading culture has changed so much, with some bookstores focusing on only selling best-sellers (it’s a business after all), to the instant gratification attention span of people reading tweets/facebook/online media.
Digging into a good book requires time. It requires depth. It requires you to lock yourself away and get lost in something. Some people don’t do that anymore because they either don’t have the time, or they don’t care. (*cries inside!*)
But this place really brought me back to why I love reading. I love digesting words and thoughts. I love imagining things. But most of all, I love the smell of paper.
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