I write to remember. I remember because I write and revisit memories with my writing. Words and images. In uniting they offer me moments and emotions that would have sadly perished from my mind. So the name of one of my favorite bookstores in Los Angeles brings me a nostalgic feeling: The Last Bookstore. Joy that there is one and sadness that bookstores are probably on the endangered list.
After a quick snap of my shutter, I skip up to the second floor (I am childishly giddy right now). Each step proposing more sections to explore.
I get a grand view of the cavernous, old space, filled with books which I have just combed through.
How exciting… I am entering a labyrinth! Here I will find Science, Fiction & Fantasy. Then Mystery, Thrillers, Tru Crime, and Horror.
Many of the genres in the back room are also of my liking: History, Cultural Studies, New Age, Religion, Foreign Language, Business, Travel, and Sports.
I love how the books are so artfully displayed, becoming more sculptural than reading material.
Is the spotlight on me right now?
I have no idea of what these are but they seem at home in the horror section.
Art merges with the printed word here. It holds an art collective as well. Am on my way to it now.
As in The Broad, you may not touch the art.
Though you can sit on it.
Photography is an art and I’m happy to see the cameras themselves become one.
Music is an art as well and here, sculpture and music unite.
Art is often political.
Art makes a statement. It was January when I visited but this Christmas tree made out of prescription bottles was not brought down yet. I don’t think this was due to sentimentality; it had a message to relay.
Art makes me contemplative. I’m not into cuss words being used but it seems to be the go-to thing now, to provoke an emotion.
As is the use of animals to elicit emotions.
As I leave the focus goes back to words. The editor in me can’t help but question the “Nuestra Señora la Reina de la Librería Última de Los Angeles” translation from English to Spanish, under this sculpture on the wall.
I say goodbye to this bookstore. I thank it for entertaining me and I’m off to my next adventure.
Down the stairs that run alongside the Angels Flight railway (the shortest railway in the world). Technically it’s a funicular.
And into The Grand Central Market to fill my belly up with German currywurst at Berlin Currywurst remembering having had some in a lounge chair from a vendor on the side of a park in Berlin that had the area covered in sand resembling a beach. Happy memory. It tasted the same!
What next? Follow me!