In A Library

It is so quiet in here that I can hear the books pulsating on the shelves. People often times whisper too loudly and almost always a person will turn to them and say “shhhh.” In the distance I can hear muffled laughter, a cough or two and the surround sound of pages turning. This place appears to be a nondenominational respite from the corporate, commodity driven outside world. A holly place of sorts. I have come here today to get some writing done, to dwell in silence and sort through some issues that I have been avoiding. Instead of doing all of this, I have been reading a book about the cosmos and watching other people. When I look around me there are mostly men over the age of sixty with graying hair and wrinkled skin. They all are absorbed in books or newspapers. The clock tells me that it is two o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon and I can not help but wonder what I am doing here? I still have a few decades until retirement age but I sit here reading my book. Should I not be “out-there” taking advantage of my youth and life rather than “in-here” stuck between the pages of a book? Should not I be erecting an empire, earning a decent living so that when I am the men’s ages that surround me- I am not spending my afternoons hidden away from the world in a library?

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