一館書香，一室靜美

I often find a room in my school’s library that reminds me of a cell in a 1）monastery. The room is white and perfectly still. Here， I move fluidly through my notes， textbook， 2）atlas of human anatomy， and back again， without the distraction of even a breath. For me， studying has become a solitary ritual， but I am not alone. There are other students in identical rooms， heads hinged down， shoulders hovered above fiberglass tables， reading as if they were searching for something elsewhere.

This library was built forty years ago when no architect seemed to care much about aesthetics. The walls and ceilings are a mixture of stones and pieces of shells， stuck together in a sea of gray. A rusted black and yellow sign bolted near the entrance designates it as a 3）fallout shelter. Now， 4）inclement weather is what sounds the 5）sirens and sends the crowds inside. I sometimes hear them from my little room， raise my head from my books， crack the door， and watch as the drenched street dwellers mill among the stacks. After a few minutes， I return and figure out where it was I left off.

I believe in those rooms. And in libraries. I also believe in kitchens， coffee shops and park benches， and the shade of oak trees. These places allow studying to temporarily remove me from this uncertain， sometimes tragic world. It’s a kind of 6）asylum. When I focus down into my books， the pages are all I see， and my thoughts are all I hear. Everything else disappears. Studying becomes a communion in which I read and 7）assimilate and grow. It steadies me. It flings me back toward myself like a reflection， until I have but one focus： the insightful person I hope to be.

At the end of the day， I return to studying the way one returns home. After dinner， I drive against the flow of traffic back to the library. In my 8）sterile room， I seat myself. It’s only me， this simple student， some lecture notes， a couple books， and a pen. The laws of physics are here too， pressing me deep into this cold chair. The world is now silenced. My eyes scan what’s laid before me. Here， in this 9）embryology text， is an illustration of the primitive structures of the human heart， the 10）bulbus cordis and the 11）conus arteriosis. And over there， the adult heart， in full developed form. My eyes shift from one picture to the other. I take more notes， doodle， stare at a blank wall， and let my eyes adjust. Somewhere in all this， a 12）synapse fires. A new pathway forms. So this is how the heart came to be shaped the way it is！ But I feel something separate from that. Learning something new is like a small 13）epiphany. I finally get it.

我時常覺得學校圖書館的某個書房，會讓我聯想到修道院里的單人小室。那書房潔白光亮，靜謐得幾近完美。在這里，我在筆記、課本、人體解剖學圖譜中流暢徜徉，來來回回，就連一絲呼吸也無法讓我分神。于我而言，學習已經成為一個獨自的儀式，然而我并不孤單。在其他相似的書房里，別的學生埋頭苦讀，雙肩撐懸在玻璃纖維書桌上，如同在別處有所尋覓似地閱讀著。

這座圖書館建于四十年前，那時的建筑師似乎都不太注重建筑的美觀性。圖書館的墻壁和天花板是石塊和貝殼由一汪灰泥粘砌而成。入口附近釘著一塊銹跡斑斑、黃黑相間的標志牌，表明這里也是一個放射性物體避難所。如今，惡劣的天氣才是致使汽笛鳴響，將人們趕往館內的原因。有時，我在我的小書房里聽見他們的動靜，從書本里抬起頭來，打開門，看著被雨水浸濕通透的街坊在書架之間慌亂穿梭。幾分鐘后，我才回過神來，尋回剛才卒讀之處。

我篤信這些書房。我篤信圖書館。我也篤信廚房、咖啡店和公園里的長木凳，還有橡樹的樹蔭。這些地方使得學習可以暫時將我帶離這變幻莫測、間或悲慘的世界。它在某種程度上是一個避難所。當我聚精會神于書本之中，雙眼所見皆為書頁，雙耳所聞皆為我的思想。其他的一切全都消失了。學習成了一種交流，我在其中閱讀、消化和成長。它使我變得沉著。它將我拋回給我自己，就像倒影一般，直到我找到唯一的焦點：那個我希望成為的擁有洞察力的人。……