It’s been raining rather consistently lately and it’s just bliss. A stranger walked me across the street with his umbrella and new carps were added into the mini fish pool outside my house.

On the weekend I stumbled upon a second-hand book sale at the mall. I don’t like the mall in general (terrible artificial lighting, unnecessary spending and the crowd), but it’s kind of inevitable. I didn’t expect to buy anything, but I did. I left the mall with four second-hand books. I can be quite nerdy.

Here are my purchases:

Freedom’s Children: Young Civil Rights Activists Tell Their Own Stories
By Ellen Levine, RM3.00
This is a collection of true stories of 30 African-Americans who were children or teenagers when they fought segregation and discrimination in the South from the 50s – 60s. This book feels like a Ziploc bag on the verge of exploding its contents. If only all books can be so blatantly simple yet powerful. One of my favorite stories in this book (so far) tells of a black woman serving a homeless white man some food. And from that story, I found one of my favorite lines: “People are people, even though they are not always good people.”

Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith
Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son's First Year
Both by Anne Lamott, RM12.27
I’m currently reading Plan B and I couldn’t find Traveling Mercies at Borders and I love her writing. These two books are definitely a steal. I love the way she describes the unseen... the dust and wind and the holy. And how laughter is carbonated holiness.

Can You See Me? Images of Atlanta's Homeless
With introduction by Lee Walburn, RM5.00
Above is one of my favorite photos in this book. It’s by Louie Favorite (an awesome name, I reckon). The other photo of the two old men is by Billy Howard. Below are some of my favorite quotes from this book:

What is it that keeps the human spirit alive in a body that is always too hot or too cold, a stomach that is always hungry, and a hand that clutches a bottle always too empty?

What happens when they long for sex and reach to touch skin that is like peeling paint and smell the breath of decaying food and twice-tasted whiskey?

Do they fantasize about perfume and fancy colognes?

Or do they just want to go home?

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I’ve been living under this bridge four years now. Every year it starts getting cold, y’all come around with your cameras. You take lots of pictures. And nothing ever changes.