Walking home I saw Bea on the bridge, she waved at me, a little sad smile. I gave her one of my biggest smiles, to make up for her little one. I miss seeing her everyday (and Magdalene too). I miss their broken english and brown leather shoes. Coffee and cigarettes and dark chocolate that stains your fingertips... I don't care for any of these things, but I miss them. I miss them because they mean Bea, and they mean Magdalene.

After seeing Bea I visited Blackwells. It's beautiful, always so beautiful and quiet. There is not one book that I do not wish to pick up and read. Sometimes I wonder if perhaps I woke up secretly in the night-time and stocked the shelves of Blackwells in my sleep.