Just beyond those see-through glass doors stood ‘them’. Columns after columns of neatly stacked books, with their spines facing outwards. The titles, some cursive, some looped, some disjointed, teasing me to guess what could be inside.
As I stroll through the narrow passages, I notice the fresh additions in the fiction which seems to be bulging at the seams, the young adults section has a group of teenage girls huddled in front of one of the shelves. The children’s section looks cute with a low ledge and floor cushions.
I choose my usual quiet corner and just sit there for a while, soaking it all in. The comfortable leather arm chairs, tables for quiet study, hushed atmosphere punctured by the occasional child’s laugh or a mobile ringtone. This is the space I luxuriate in, I sink in the muffled stillness, without a care in the world, without counting the minutes. No meeting reminders, no urgency of responding to the emails.
A Sunday like this is pure bliss. Isn’t it?