A second-hand bookshop is like a small neighborhood recycling plant and orphanage of inanimate objects. Unwanted and neglected books will be taken in, dusted off, and given a gentle resting place until a new owner comes in, and a new home is found. Upon being shelved in their proper sections, old friends will become reacquainted. Old conversations will reignite. Pritchard and Proust …. Alcott and Alden …. Barre and Barth. They will take up where they left off, and talk about the chimera of youth, or the advantages of going to bed early. Their paper, and the knowledge printed there-on, will be reused. A mind will be reanimated. Sometimes a note written in the margin by a previous owner will rekindle a forgotten memory, and a new note will appear beside the old one. Numerous authors will develop a new story, note by note, owner by owner. The new story will be written in the margin next to the printed one, Proust or Alcott, or Pritchard or Barth. The books will come in and the books will go out in an infinite cycle of renewal. This is the story of a Second-Hand Bookshop.