Three days ago a pilgrim arrived at the shop I run on Fourth Street. I was fussing with boxes in a back corner when the tinkling of the old rusty bell above the door signaled a customer. It was a rare sound – customers weren’t in the mood for rare books these days, what with the economy in such a slump – so I quickly pushed a box of old magazines into a shelf and hurried to the front of the store.

I paused at the top of the three stairs that led down to the cashier desk – a pilgrim? More >