Library: a love note

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There are rows and rows of books as far as I can see. Economics, business and marketing are behind me, probably staring at my head as I type. In front of me lie shelves full of social science, ethnicity, migration and who knows what else. The librarian does or the person who walks by every now and then, arranging and rearranging books in these shelves. It’s hard to believe that this person knows the location of every book on this floor, or even the entire library. A remarkable, rather envious skill.

If a library could speak, it would have such wonderful things to say. But it waits to be read. Every now and then someone comes by with the capacity and motivation to absorb everything it has give. Otherwise the library just sits there for years, holds all that spectacular, often dark and mysterious knowledge within in itself.

Every now and then it watches a lost soul wander into its alleys and find itself by just looking at a part of one of the numerous shelves that wait to enlighten. It must feel great when some one comes back to the same shelf looking for more.

It’s a busy place, the library, bustling with students in the day time. More of them during exam time. As the night descends it becomes the solace of a few. Those who stay behind with it, because its peace embraces their lonely souls. The smell of books, and the silence of concentration inspires them to open up their minds and absorb the knowledge that drifts in its corridors.

Then there are those who have no where else to be. They find their little corner and think of it as their home. Outside they feel lost, isolated. Inside they have the company of thousands of books. Some books they look at, and some books look at the back of their head as they type their first ever love note to a new friend in a strange town.