I went to a second-hand bookshop today, to look at their photobook section. They have quite a few. I came across a copy of a photographer’s book that had a personal dedication: “For Aunt Bettie” (not the real name), signed with just the first name. The photographer is a well-known photographer, but the book really isn’t his best work. It was supposed to be $60, and I didn’t want to pay that much for it, the dedication notwithstanding (on Amazon, used copies can be had for less than the price of a medium latte, I learned later).
But what a small world this is: Aunt Bettie must be dead now, and whoever had cleaned out the house had just given away the books (maybe Aunt Bettie is still alive, in which case she gave away the book). And somehow, the book had ended up in that second-hand bookshop a few miles down the road - a few miles down my road, a few miles down Aunt Bettie’s road.
