(curled up with a book)

 

 

 

I’m sitting in a corner of a not-my-hometown library, sinking deep into this feeling of hiding.

 

It’s the introvert’s enchantment. It’s the sinking back into something soft, looking up at the ceiling and thinking, I’m safe. No one can find me.

 

This library is old. No libraries are old anymore. They smell like new carpet, are sleek, have shimmer. This library is old. It has dull shelves and smells like cigarette smoke.

 

I love it.

 

Where I sit, huge mahogany pillars are arching up to the ceiling, completing my feeling of being tucked in. No one will walk this way for hours. I feel like I’ve found a secret attic, and while a thunderstorm rages outside these huge windows, I’m dry.

 

Curled up with a book. It is the simple things that make you feel like you’ve found a palace.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s