The Medical Library

Have you ever gone into a medical library to browse through books and be drawn in deeper and deeper into the texts as if enchanted. Fairies carrying your mind in, spiraling down dimly lit tunnels, until you are so deeply swathed in the texts of the library that you are cocooned by the world inside the books. Time fades away, and 'I swear only fifteen minutes' turns into an hour, then two. Wandering through the pages, your brain swells with information as if you have bitten a magic mushroom. Whispers you can barely here stroke you, bombard you, telling you the answers. You know if you can delve just a little bit deeper, read a little bit more, think, and think and think, as if drunk on the very act, then the whispers will turn to a shout of Eureka. So you do, and they do become louder. But a ringing bell draws you up up and out of that world landing you back at the wooden table surrounded by tomes and volumes. The library is about to close, and you've probably gotten a ticket since you parked in a thirty minute only spot. Wisps of that scientific world drift from your pores, and reluctantly you head toward the stairs, feeling an empty spot, a longing. An echo of whispers follows you down the stairwell and  you ache as you know you were only a few more minutes, a few more pages, a few more pieces of the puzzle before the click that would have transformed your hungry need from seeking to understanding.