The mother and son have edged into the shop together, shoulder to shoulder, she to look at art books, he to read Sea Quest right next to her; he is showing her its qualities, casting for ownership. They read on silently together, it is warm in that room, cold outside. A younger sister comes quickly through the door, she has headphones in and she joins the group, leaning her head into a shelf, rests there, eyes closed and says nothing at all.
Then the father joins them, and he lines up too, curiously, shoulder to shoulder. He has a book that is very funny, but I can’t see what it is. Every time he exclaims, his family glance across, frowning. Suddenly, the grandmother is here. She is looking for Agatha Christie and her family look at her kindly. Her son shows her a very funny thing in his book and she glances down at the page, frowning.
Suddenly they all lean in together to examine each other’s books and they all begin to talk about Watership Down, a book which none of them are holding. There is something they can’t agree on, the grandmother is furious with her adult son, who is trying to find his phone. They can no longer stay in the corner of a bookshop, near art and photography, they all look through the window at freedom, which they feel they have abruptly lost.
They leave with great courtesy, splintering off at the doorway, thanking me, looking sideways at each other and diving for freedom.
Sculpture by Max Leiva