On a nondescript street of brick row houses, nestled between an insurance office and a computer store, in an out of the way corner of Brooklyn known as Marine Park that is not on any subway lines, lies a small storefront. From the street, it’s impossible to see in — the glass windows are blocked by bookshelves, the glass door covered by a large red and white version of the Israeli flag. A small printed flyer is taped to the top of the door: “Mizrahi Bookstore: Over 60,000 Jewish Books in Stock.” A phone number is provided, and then: “Please knock and ring bell.”
Should you do so, the door will be answered by the proprietor of Mizrahi Bookstore, Yisrael Mizrachi, a delicate man who is a mere 28 years old. You will be escorted into the bookstore. Inside, it is cozy; you must maneuver delicately to avoid disturbing the chaotic order of the books. As you make your way through the maze of bookshelves, Mizrahi will watch you closely for signs of his own affliction—bibliophilia — until you arrive at the sanctum sanctorum, Mizrahi’s office at the back of the store. Here, the buying and selling of books happens — a dizzying mix of the modern and the ancient, with books from the middle ages sharing space with three computers and a monitor displaying security footage of the front door.
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