You see an old bookstore across the street. Walking over, you can hardly see through the windows because of the dust that has accumlated on them.
You walk up to the door and pull on the old, wooden handle. A bell rings as the door opens, and the smell of an old book overtakes you.
"Ehh, how can'a I be of'a service to you," comes a thickly italian-accented voice from behind a stack of books. A wrinkled, genial face pokes up from behind the books. Motioning to you, he leads you deep into the bookstore. Although at first sight he appeared frail, you now realize that this man carries an aura of strenght uncharacteristic for his age.
"Here we have'a thousands of stories, by the best authors our'a fine city has to'a offer... enjoy."
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