I turned the knob of the door; it squeaked open and I stepped through into paradise. The room was large enough to fit at least two adult elephants. There were thousands of shelfs scattered throughout the space and though they were inanimate objects, something about the way these dark chocolate colored, wooden pieces of furniture stood reflected the bold stance of a saluting soldier. The different scripts of knowledge rested on their hosts, creating rows of colors, bleeding and blending into one another.
As I shuffled forward, the wooden, terracotta floor boards creaked beneath my feet. Golden sunlight streaked in through the huge, glass windows that made up the wall, parallel to the door. The room, suddenly, seemed to be bathing in the pouring rays of honey sunshine as though the break in silence had breathed the place alive.
The stench of turpentine oil, saw dust, old paper and ink exploded into my nose, triggering a strange nostalgia. They came from the beautiful paintings, piercing into the soul, that hung on all the peachish- beige walls.
I climbed the staircase to the upper portion, running my hand, slowly, across the ice cold railing. The sounds of singing birds flooded into the room overpowering the echo of my drifting feet. The coffee mug I held filled warmth throughout my skin.
I looked up at the painting on the ceiling of the creation of Adam by Michael Angelo. This was one of the major reasons I loved this place. The bright and dull colors contrasting and complimenting one another was an unworldly sight. It was made with such inhumane beauty, it sent shivers down my back.
This was my favorite place. The library. My childhood.my memories, my everything was created here. It was all I knew.