Written by: Devin
It is within a library where I go to find solace, and the clarity of my mind.
Pages, old and new, crisp and crumpled. The words invading my mind with wisdom as the teacher would, reading their lessons. Words seem to float around from the page to my eyes, and my mouth. Each delectable, and bittersweet.
To read is to sing, but a song of the mind. The knowledge melting into the cerebellum, joining cohorts, and mingling for my pleasure. Music. That is what books are for me. A Waltz made just for me, composed by Bach himself.
The rows of literature–they make me smile. Some of the knowledge hidden, some laid out for consumption. Standing ten, fifteen feet tall, the oaken shelves never bending in the weight upon them, just as the absolute knowledge never tarries in their astuteness.
It is the feeling of the pages and covers that excite me. The smooth vellum, and plant fibres tickling the very tips of my fingers as they brush the fragile bindings.
It is these things that calm me, make me center myself. Letting each tick from the previous day flit away, into the History books that surround me.
A Library, that is where I go.