It was an old bookshop, i was truly fascinated by it, I'm sure Mel would have too if she was here. It was a second hand book shop but the collection was great. That shop was the kind of ideal shop that i had in mind, a bookshop cum cafe, where people could just pick a book and read while they sip and munch. If they like the book, they could buy it.

I was impressed by its collection, there were some first prints of those Enid Blyton's and other good literary pieces. I found three of R.K Narayan's books that I had always wanted to buy. I had searched high and low for it when i was a student but no bookshop was able to sell it to me, finally I found it in this old bookshop, tempted i was to buy it but finally opted not to when I converted the price into RM.

There are many such shops in Sydney and there is a market for old books. Perhaps because the reading culture is popular here. I was impressed by this bookshop and was motivated to explore the other shops. And so, I happily walked into the many bookshops that i came across, every one of it was unique with its own identity. I was innocent and naive until I walked into a bookshop that made me feel so stupid. I had walked into a bookshop that sold explicit titles only and nothing more. I felt so embarrassed to be in that shop. I guess it was due to my upbringing where sex was a taboo topic. My self consciousness seemed to tell me that i should not be in that shop though the liberal me could not see my presence in that shop as wrong or illegal. I avoided making my discomfort too obvious, spent some 5 minutes browsing through the books before i left.

It was indeed an interesting experience for me, again, I felt like a frog under the coconut shell....(katak dibawah tempurung )