Claudette is cool. But not cool enough to walk through walls. Cool enough to walk and text at the same time? Sure. Cool enough to walk through walls? No--wait--no, again, that's been established: Claudette... is not... that cool; she isn't parting the Red Sea that is the middle of our store, nor did we recently install an elevator door-like sensor in the WOB (Wall of Books), allowing one to pass through, willy-nilly, as if out shopping for grapefruit on the phone.
Readers, the wall has come down! (You know, I realized early on in life that I could never be a doctor, what, with all the blood and test scores. But it has only just occurred to me that I would also make the worst politician."Readers"? "Come down"? I might as well call you my "Friends" and start cantankerously reminding you to "Make no mistake," before repeating something I think. And what was that allusion to Berlin about? Our wall hasn't come down, it's just been split in two. Can you imagine if it had though? All those books to pick back up and put away? It's enough to make a person go into medicine and body parts. Ugh.)
As you've no doubt gleaned from that aside just now, the WOB, famously responsible for turning CGB into something akin to the set of West Side Story, has been pulled apart, creating a newfound sense of spaciousness and harmony that's still not safe to lean on. And whereas before the WOB was full of books, without obvious symmetry or pattern, every row is now a monument to a specific genre, such as Zines or Photography or Nature. The only requirement for books, as far as I can tell, is the same one needed to work here: It has to be attractive and dense.
P.S. Until further notice, the opposite side of the WOB remains full of Claudette's books I'm not allowed to touch.
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