There is something about libraries that can’t be explained. Why is it that we walk into them and, as if we are being faced with the breathtaking sight of a thundering waterfall or a sun-lit forest full of life, we halt in our steps? Those who enter hold their breath. Our hearts start to beat faster. 

The sight of thousands, millions of books waiting for us, the scent of centuries of knowledge and adventure, the thick backs bearing titles in silver and gold – all that sets our mind free.

In a library, our souls feel soothed, but why is that?

Have you ever wondered? Why a simple room full of books brings us such comfort and warmth? 

Maybe because the treasure of knowledge never comes unprotected. 

Open your eyes. See? The old woman at the counter who checks out your books or accepts them back – do you ever see her go home? Has she always been that old? Her fingers cradle the leather of that book that got you through a stormy night as if it was a child. 

The young boy in the corner, flipping through a book that looks heavier than his fragile smile that never seems to fade – has he always been here? 

The cat that sits on the windowsill outside, yawning, glancing inside with emerald-piercing eyes. The bookshelf that has never been replaced, that is older than the ceiling itself or the books that it bears with patience and silence. The one book that never seems to be taken away from its place, its cover simple black with barely visible letters, your eyes catching onto it and serenity floods your body. 

Have you ever wondered why your mind comes to peace in a room full of books?

That’s because their guardians watch over the sacred knowledge that sits between ink and paper and dust of centuries.

And when you are with them, worshipping their letters with your young, curious eyes, the guardians smile at your back and keep you safe.