For years, I've had dreams about cities.
Photo by sweetjessie (Flickr link)
Sometimes it's a city that I know, and I'm just walking down a street or taking a train and it's just another day in London, or New York, or Seattle. More often, though, it's a dream city that only exists in my head for the duration of the dream. Some of the cities are dark and empty and I'm the only one there. In others, I walk and talk with people I've known. In one of them, the city was overgrown and I rode a horse over a grassy bridge. In all of them, there is a bookstore. Like the cities, the bookstore changes from dream to dream - once, it was a basement of old paperbacks on steel and cork shelves, and in another, library carts of books sat outside under an overhang, around a large bed with a patchwork quilt over it, so that customers could test books out while lying on it (which still seems very sensible to me, as someone who has done a lot of reading flopped down on a bed or floor).
Does every city have a bookseller?