#r.ewrite

Another bouquet, another stroll. This one is a collection of lillies, white and stargazer - and while he does fancy lillies as some of the best when it comes to plants, he can't say he likes them. These were given to him by a woman from Itaewon, who proceeded to tell him that she was in love with him after just reading his stories. He had to politely shoot her down and scuttle off to find somewhere else to be.

How do they even find me?

He carries the flowers in his left hand as he walks around, veering towards the nearest park as soon as he spots it in the distance. This one has a nice pond in the middle, if he recalls correctly, and he likes to watch the fish. Sometimes, if there are birds, he'll feed them. But in the summer like this, he likes to stick his feet into the water and lay back to watch the clouds. He's glad he decided to wear sandals.

There's a nice breeze going, and the sun isn't too hot yet, but the morning light is blinding if you look the wrong direction. He plucks his sunglasses from the top of his head to set them on correctly as he starts down the main path through the park. He only follows it a for a short while before veering off to make a beeline for the water.

As he approaches, he spots a figure sitting down by the bank, and reconsiders his choice to stay here; he'd come to avoid people, after all. But the slump of the man's shoulders tells him there's probably something amiss and he really needs to get rid of these flowers. So he meanders up slowly, cautiously, and takes a seat next to the sullen man near the water's edge. He trains his eyes on one of the minnows swimming near the surface and holds out the bouquet.

It's fascinating, how quickly the streets you call home for so many years can be so unfamiliar to you. If you don't traverse them, you don't remember them. Strange roads in a strange city, populated by similarly strange people, all staring back at you as you pass them like you've done something wrong by just offering a polite glance and perhaps a smile. There's an alienating sense to it, leaving you wishing that you'd stayed home and compelling you to strengthen your resolve for next time.

But being lost in your own city isn't always so bad. Sometimes you find nice places.

Taliesin likes to find small shops that remind him of his childhood, homey little stores that sell well-worn looking wares. From chairs to dishes to stuffed toys, he takes it all in with a sort of redolent melancholy. Shops like these were the ones he would visit with his mother on days off, though those were few and far between back then.

It's the book stores that bring him any sort of pleasant nostalgia, because of all the time he spent perusing them in his teenage years. Inspiration found in the furthest corners of his favorite used book shop fueled the fires that pushed him to write his first couple of novels.

Today he's journeyed out to Incheon, listlessly wandering about the streets with no real aim in mind. He's not sure what he's going to find today; he's already passed several quaint cafes and all manner of other small food shops down this street - a cupcake shop and a Thai place, he thinks. He passes a hat shop and a clothing shop that appears to cater to a certain kind of niche crowd before he comes to a halt at the next window.

His attention has been caught by the pthalo awning that's sprouted out of grey brick, contending with the park across the street for greenest shade. He backs up a few steps toward the street to read the lettering printed on the side and finds that the store underneath is a book shop.

      "Top Shelf."

He doesn't really need to take a second glance through the windows, knowing well enough that if he sees full shelves, he's going to have to take a look around.

He enters the store quietly, but the bell attached to the door chimes just the same, announcing his presence. He all but winces at the sound, but proceeds on regardless.