A Restful Moment

Libraries is always a place where I could step away from the outside world and be lost in another one full of stories, knowledge, and most of all, a restful sanctuary. So many of my favorite movies, books, music, all of which that have garnered a specific part of me, wasn't because of Blockbuster or Barnes & Nobles bor Borders.
It was the library that remained open to all and showed endless possibilities of something new I’d otherwise would never have known about.

Whether it was discovering the absolute majesty that was Jim Henson's Labyrinth that was tucked away in a small corner of the young adult DVD section of my library or the classic hits of Cher or finding all the books from my favorite author ever, Cornelia Funke (Whom I never would have had known about had I not picked out one of her novels at that same library).
Every single library I go to is always filled with some sort of archaic mystery of not just every book that it holds, the labyrinthian shelves of knowledge and creativity, of voices past, but just how even in the dormancy of the pages, the spaces in between, there's a hidden life there, often unseen. It's always there, waiting for anybody who just wants to pick up a good moment to be human again, alive again. Even if just for a moment.
I know this is technically not a story; just fragmented, fond memories I hold dear to whenever I think of libraries.