That round darkened spot might be me. I'm shooting through some glass 'darkly' at a closed bookstore here. If I'm near a bookstore I have to venture in. Not always to buy, but I'm a pretty 'good looker'. Elenka just rolls her eyes; I'm sure. She's already told me I have to start clearing books out of our den. If I lived alone, I'd probably be a hoarder. Sometimes I can't stop. Good thing I married. The den is the next room we'll tackle; she claims. Of course she's been saying this about the den for about 5 years now. I know why. It's a daunting task with all the books and all. The rug has got to go and the walls need some paint. It'll happen in the upcoming future. We've just completed rearranging and painting our upstairs' rooms, and in the process throwing out junk. Funny thing about junk. At one time, junk seemed so valuable. Time tends to alter, at one time, invaluable sentimental items. How does sentimental become garage sale fodder so fast? Time just ain't hours, minutes and days. There's something else at play here.