Folds
At Bronwig’s bookshop there's a notice on the door, in red capitals: IN LIQUIDATION. It’s devastating. I’d been a customer since I was too small to see more than the top of Mr Bronwig’s head behind the counter. His hair was white, even then; delicate as cotton candy. I didn’t come to Bronwig’s for the books at first. I came for the turtles. When you bought a book, Mr Bronwig would delicately fold a paper model to serve as...
