George·Tohmé
I stood where the light broke through the doorway and settled on spines nobody had touched that morning. Dust moved in the beam like something breathing. The shop kept its own weather, warmer than the street, and I let it hold me a while.

Afternoon, Shelved

Rue de l’Odéon

I stood where the light broke through the doorway and settled on spines nobody had touched that morning. Dust moved in the beam like something breathing. The shop kept its own weather, warmer than the street, and I let it hold me a while.

Nearby work