6-7 years ago, I was in Paris for a wedding and reading poetry, the reading was met with protests by the public who protested again my anti-Israel and pro-Palestinian poems. The day after walking about I was trying to find the Paris of Dos Passos and Ernest Hemingway, found a city overpriced looking like any others. I happened to walk past a bookshop βShakespeare & coβ I walked in met by a million of books. I had two slim volumes of my own effort, and naively asked if I could place them here? The answer was yes, I filled out a form with my address, and that was it. It was only later I realized my tiny books were the company with the greatest poets and writer in the western world. I never contacted the bookshop again, but often wonder if anyone has browsed through my work and liked what I had written.