Summer in the Library

There is a blanketing peace in the library. A well upheld societal rule is to keep the quiet in this place. As such, the only sounds that punctuate the silence are the gentle shuffles and stickings of flip flops, as well as the occasional wooden creak and crisp page turn. This is my space of zen and peace.
Gentle whispers sift through the shelves of literary giants and aspiring hopefuls. It is so quiet you can almost hear the books humming with silent thought. The atmosphere encloses me, softening the world, much like a fresh snow.
Here I find my calm. The feeling of my heart and breath slowing in syncopated rhythm, an elevator concerto. The feeling of absolute peace, I am instantly, consistently, constantly relaxed in this embrace.
I have always been happy and at peace in a library, it is my treehouse, my hide a way, my sanctuary. Here the world makes sense. Here I belong. Relaxed ever by the page turning that is my noise machine, lulling me to sleep.
Zen, but also focused and awake.