My dream hideaway would consist of a bookstore. Inside the bookstore, the walls would be covered in old wallpaper with the colors burgundy, olive green, and gold mixed in. There would be a bay window right in the front beside the register. On display would be books stacked about 6 high and tied with worn ribbon. The store would smell of coffee and old paper. A sitting section would be in the center of the small store surrounded by mahogany bookshelves and quietness. The chairs would be soft, the kind you sink into. The books would be mostly aged, some new. It wouldn’t be a crowded bookstore, just enough regulars to keep it alive. They would be artists, writers, or young creators who like to be alone. It keeps them sane. Books would be organized in sections, but not fixed if put in the wrong section. The bookstore would be softly lit, with an old chandelier right under the entrance. This would be the comforting place where I’d hide myself away from the world.