If you took a moment and stepped inside, you were quickly overcome by the smell of dust, of pages, of history, of life itself

Photos: Nachman Hellman

Deep in Meah Shearim, where the stores seemed to pile up, one after another, there is a small opening that you would have missed if you were walking quickly.

But if you took a moment and stepped inside, you were quickly overcome by the smell of dust, of pages, of history, of life itself.

The proprietor fascinated me, an elderly Yerushalmi Jew with large, clear eyes, a bit of a fierce demeanor, and a strong sense of purpose. Kan zeh lo modi’in, read an unapologetic sign behind him, this isn’t an information booth: we’re not here to guide you through Meah Shearim.

We sell seforim. We sell tashmishei kedushah. We treasure them, and offer them to people who will do the same.