Now this, it was great. It's the bookstore of your dreams, filled with first editions, old books, oversized books - any of it's sections in itself bigger than most bookstores, a 16' high ceiling, shelves all the way to the top, great tottering stacks of books, overstuffed racks of books, books lining the floor roughly where they would fit on the shelf, if there was room.
Probably, not a word of a lie, a million books. Curated as well, customers coming in - at first glance there's no rhyme or reason - but everyone asks for their author and he steers them right to the section, knows if he has it in stock or not - books on Magic ("with a 'K'" I ask, and he reprimands me - "Tricks are in another section. There's many forms of magic...") and with just a few of the right questions puts the right book in their hand. Esoteric, Theosophical, there's no tripping him up, he knows it all.
I'd written about him-not-him, the ideal bookstore, proprietor, and now I've met him.
I am impressed.