Paper Bound Words

The light streams in from the lofty prismatic windows and its intensity burns it’s way through the air to my skin. The air, having been inhaled and exhaled countless times, is odorless yet stale, offending the nose as boredom offends the mind. The dark blues, drab greys, and intricate wooden patterns tear into vision and capsules called bodies are mill about on protruding legs. The shelf, which I rest upon, presses against me until I cannot stay still in the room of paper bound words. The people sit hunched over tables, reading, talking, and writing and turning pages, scratching pens, and clicking keys fly to my ears. I stand upon my toes to gain a new perspective of these silent workers and drop to my heels to release myself, for an instant, from gravity.