Library-Maniac

In this holiday there seems to be an invisible bond between me and my library, and for the first time I find myself partake of some characters of a library-maniac. Since I registered as a member of National Library Board in November, some connections have been built between me and the library and then naturally, I began to put "going to the library" on my schedule.

Once a week, I would make a tour to "the cauldron of books" and dive into the scent of bookpages, sniff the fragrance out of them. Comparing with slouching on the sofa watching TV, or eye-soring in front of computer screens, gluing to a library indeed is a desirable way to spend a day. Not too plain, not too exciting. While you get to meet strings of people, you do not need to build any relationship with them. While you can observe the surroundings like a theatre-goer, you can also be a part on the stage. Nothing is more inclusive and more exclusive than going to a library. Pitch up a book and that will do. Relaxing, refreshing, inspiring, and RECLUSIVE. Every visit, undeniably, would blow some fresh air to my stale holiday-life.

Today was a red-lettered day. That means my Library Day. The ten-minute bus trip could have take me to anywhere, but I chose to be taken to the library that I had missed one whole week. From outside, Jurong Regional Library was dark and lifeless. Due to the one-way-mirror property of the window panels, people inside can easily get a clear view of what is going on outside while people outside are being exposed and exhibited, which is, unintentionally to both sides. Walking through the over-head bridge can be a relishing process, especially when heading to somewhere that gives you a possessive feeling, warm and secure.

Picking a place to settle down is the easiest and freest thing here. Be it the businessman with a briefcase under his armpit, or a bunch of teens frolicking together, they all can find the exact desirable place to sit down, to kneel down, or even to crouch down. Unlike libraries in China which have a tendency to promote a sedative lifestyle, there are not rows and lines of chairs and tables, but there are ample seats enough to meet the needs--here lies the magic. Not only are the chairs and tables positioned near large windows for sunshine to filter in, but those seats are also of various styles catering to "all and sundry". Standard wooden hard-back chairs, mini-sofas, soft benches, even some sofas in the silent-reading rooms that ensemble seats on the Singapore Airline, all make the library a conducive place not only to stay, but to enjoy.

One day's busy life began as the sunshine shed into the library: a young lady picking up a "Twilight" and cross-legging on a wooden chair; a man in light-orange jacket typing on his "minuscule toy laptop"; a group of teens painting out some project work; and two middle-aged women sharing some domestic secrets. All was well that began well. I fit in one of the empty seats and began on part on the mega stage.

The chill of the library and the continuous dripping sound from the fountain made one oblivious to the calling of sleepiness. One hour passed like twenty minutes, and I did not have to collapse on my cosy bed as usual after finishing a chapter of "Inviible Man". After staying in the air-conditioned ice box for too long and facing the threat of hypothermia, I had to move up to the third floor and bask in front of the giant windows where light rays were readily accessible. Once you sit there, it is your nest, the blaided man next to you your neighbour and the blonde nearby your guest. That is what a library means. A community of strangers distantly bound together and closely related to each other, in a process without vocal words, eye contacts, nor even a greeting. Everyone is a shareholder and everyone feels possessive. "My" library is also "our" library.

That is where the magic lies. That is what makes the place so oftenly frequented. And that is what breeds so many library-maniacs. Count me one. At least in this holiday.