Green Apple Books (or Why San Francisco Is Going To Bankrupt Me)

I have an obsession with books. I think if I’d had more say in the matter that, when I moved two weeks ago, I would have left all my clothes in Florida and packed suitcases full of books.

My empty bookshelves remind me of my empty soul.

But then there’s Green Apple and, if I spend even five more minutes in this shop I’ll be toting around my bodyweight in literature and probably broke.

But really?! Who turns down a shiny, new Franzen for $4?!

I have a book problem. No, I won’t get help.

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