I could stay here for a while...it's not the Barnes and Noble my dad took my brother and I to when I was young, but...what can you do?

I never realized it before but putting a cafe in every Barnes and Noble across the land was pretty genius. You can order coffee, an eclair, and then sit down at one of their little wooden tables and type away on your computer. And not mind the atmosphere. Not at all an atmosphere where I was agitated with the ruckus any given Starbucks provides at lunchtime. It is more quiet here. More relaxed. I notice with satisfaction the dark green carpet and mahogany bookshelves. No. They haven't changed. It makes sense, doesn't it? To write within a bookstore? If I had the ability to write on the sunny sidewalk of Paris, sure. I'd enjoy the fresh air, sip a cup of coffee, type away...watching people as they passed me by. The oddest people of all I find inspiration in.

But in this bookstore, in this place where imagination takes flight and people journey across the world without leaving the ground, I think I'm ok here. So far as public places go, this bookstore seems to rule as the best place for me to write.