This small and elegant bookstore is located across the street from where I live. Every Sunday and Wednesday, an English saloon is held there.  This place seems to have something special, something so subtle that I can’t put my finger on but it was very enchanting and luring, as if calling for me every time when I passed by. Many times I stopped by and read the new topic for next English Saloon from a board outside with great interests. But I never get enough nerve up to walk in until that night.

     It turned out to be a great experience. I managed to play a more active role than I really was, and somehow I succeeded in one way or another. Certainly I stumbled and made mistakes since I hadn't spoken English for a quite long time. And it's always nervous for me to speak to the strangers. But on the whole it was not as bad as I had expected. Funny, it seemed easier to make an approach to the strangers when communicating in a foreign language. It sort of created an erotic atmosphere and everyone was more open and bold hiding behind another language. We talked about a lot, and sometimes even mentioned things very personal. When Stella told us that only one time her husband had said ' I love you' to her seriously, that was when he asked for a divorce, I was dying to ask what had happened next, but I bite my tongue in time when I remembered that we barely knew each other and it was improper to push her more on this subject. I also found myself telling something about my childhood, something I had never mentioned before, let alone to the strangers.

      I think I would go next time.