I’d be lying if I said I’ve never considered writing as a career. To be a journalist in some newspaper or magazine, and maybe someday have a magazine dedicated to the latest news on science from the Middle East. I’d be lying if I said I never imagined a life surrounded by letters, words, sentences, paragraphs, articles, books, books and more books. To be able to write something people could easily relate to, recommend to others and quote in their day-to-day life. But both of us know that I don’t have it in me, and I’m not saying it looking for attention from someone to tell me I’m wrong and I should give it a shot. A writing career is not meant to be for me.
I try to compensate the writing dream with bookshops. Stretching my dreams far enough to owning my own little one. And maybe another day in that dream’s future, a publishing firm. One that publishes the pretty book covers our creative minds want to own. I’ve thought about the atmosphere, the way the place will smell. The free coffee while looking for your perfect book. I’ve imagined traveling east and west in search for the perfect books to grace my bookshelf and the shelves of my future bookshop and eventually yours.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever take the leap to open my little perfect bookshop. To make all the daydreaming a reality. To unwind by spending my time away from the lab, away from research and diagnostics, sorting books on shelves, curating the perfect book settings as it’s an art one must learn to master. And while I wait for you (whoever you are) to come and look for your next book, I’ll leave you to it, reading my own book till you’re ready to ask for help. I’ll try and recommend a book for you and I’ll wait for you to come over another day and discuss it with me while sipping out perfect cup of coffee.