She held it together long enough to empty her mangy backpack on the counter, then started a muttering monologue while I sorted through her pile of books, each wrapped in its own neatly folded paper sack.
They're all really nice books. He doesn't care how hard it is! Well you obviously don't like INNOCENT people! Because what, he likes to rob banks for CRACK? It doesn't matter that I'm bi-polar, I'll be your FRIEND...it doesn't mean I'll be your GIRLfriend, but I'll be your FRIEND.
It went on like that until, against my better judgement, I bought a couple of books (what can I say, we don't see much on Mandalas). She was traditionally aghast that I'd rejected so many of her fine offerings- on that point your mentally ill and your average retail customer are united.
She wanted to know where else she could sell her stuff. Expedient coward that I am I sent her down the road to Kreutzberg. They don't actually buy books, they trade them for food, but I didn't want her camping out by our door with her one woman show.
Plus, she looked like she could use a muffin.
1 comment:
I want the book on mandalas.
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