This is just what I need, quiet. I don’t mind the soft whispers at all. Compared to my noisy busy life, this is my sanctuary and so much more pleasant than the usual traffic noise, horns honking, screeching of brakes, people yelling. . .even the compression of other people’s bodies against me when I’m just walking to the bus stop. It’s humanity, hundreds and hundreds of people pushing, bumping, shoving you with never an “excuse me, so sorry,”or a pleasant greeting. People, surrounding me at every moment.
I open the door to this haven, this quiet, this utopia of stillness, the library. The scent of leather bound tomes, paper holding adventures that beg to be explored. Even a bit of dust doesn’t deter me from seeking out unfamiliar books. Writers, authors, all, that took the time and energy to compose a story or poem, or list facts of history, craft maps of foreign lands, or photographers who compiled albums of beautiful venues.
I am so grateful for their efforts. I find respite within these walls.