City Of Books นิยาย & เรื่องราว

She didn't know what happened to his head so that Adimasta appeared who was so cheerful, so romantic, and so free to show his love. ***** "I like this place. Because I like reading." Adimasta saw a large room in front of him. Lots of bookshelves there. The City Library. Anindita said Adimasta also liked going to the city library. He had a dream to read all the books he liked, without having to buy them. "Ah, there's a very good book here." Adimasta quickly stepped towards the shelf slightly back.

~O~O~O~ "CHLOE, would you mind if we sit for a while before getting another book?" Zabdiel asked while he carried ten books in his arms. They already reached the end of the First Section of the library and the two young men felt drained from Sarah's enthusiasm in choosing her books to read. The whole group split up as soon as they entered the Demetrian Library which was located at the very heart of the Galenus City.

she stopped herself, shifting her shoulders as she weighed the statement, "not a lot that we have left of it, anyway." "Why's that?" Avera asked with interest. "It was all lost," Kara told her, issuing a glance in her direction. "You know," she added, "during the Great Fire." Avera looked at her, unknowing, and she began to elaborate. "See, Stephan prided himself on his public works projects, and one of his crowning achievements was this really illustrious library he had built. All of the official documents and the entirety of the collections of the Royal Library were stored there, and when the city burned, the books burned with it," Kara stated, continuing to search through the catalogue. "

The city approached through the windscreen in its January guise lower light, starker colours, the particular stripped-back quality of New York in the first week of a new year before it had fully decided what it was going to be. “What do you want this year to look like?” I asked. He considered it the way he considered everything. “More of what we built last year,” he said. “The Fund running at full capacity. The European expansion settled. The public address behind us. More dinners at your mother’s on Sundays.” He paused. “The book, when you’re ready.” “The book,” I said. Not dismissively. Just acknowledging it the thing that was there, waiting, accumulating itself in the pages of a notebook

Cory The small cafe I had chosen was tucked into a quiet corner of the city. Not one of the polished, glittery establishments where business tycoons flaunted their wealth, but a moderate place, with worn brick walls, the faint aroma of roasted beans and a shelf filled with books for patrons to borrow. I ordered a cup of espresso, then chose a seat by the window. Outside, the city moved in its usual rush, but, in here, the world slowed. The hush of conversations, the clink of cups, the hiss of steaming milk. It was almost comforting.

“I want to see what you look like when you’re happy and no one is watching.” “Everyone is always watching.” “Then we’ll pretend they aren’t and hope they believe us.” The city unspooled beyond the glass, a ribbon of brick and steam, laundromats and blue awnings, sidewalks that knew too many stories. He didn’t take her toward the obvious district; he turned into streets that smelled like bread and cut flowers, away from the cameras that liked names too much. The first stop was a bookstore—new to her, with high windows and an owner whose glasses were always slipping down his nose, the kind of place where you can hear paper breathe.

They opened without a sound, but Vivian’s sharp inhale was audible. Every chapter of the Valhalla Club possessed a unique element that set it apart. Cape Town was known for its wraparound aquarium, Tokyo for its three-hundred-sixty-degree views from atop one of the city’s highest buildings. New York had its helipad and secret underground tunnel system. But the library was the heart and soul of almost every branch. It was where deals were brokered, confidences shared, and alliances forged or broken. Tonight, for once, it was empty.

I feel my whole body relax like it only does when she's close. "You don't need to be embarrassed about reading dirty books. I've been doing it for years." she says and my head pops up and I stare at her to determine how serious she is. But I don't sense even hint of joking. How interesting. "Really? What kind of books do you like?" I ask and watch with fascination as an adorable blush creeps up her face. "Um... mostly small town romance. Single dad, friends to lovers, next door neighbors, things like that." she says a little shyly making me chuckle.

Just sneakers and a light jacket. The city was unusually quiet. I ended up at a small antique bookstore tucked between a florist and a tailor. It had no flashy signage, just a brass bell on the door and a handwritten welcome note in cursive. Inside, the scent of old paper and cedar wrapped around me like a story waiting to be told. I let myself drift between the aisles until a book caught my eye—Letters Never Sent. It was a collection of real, unsent letters from women over the last century. To lost loves, estranged mothers, unborn children.