Thursday 22 June 2023

Beethovenstraße 15 Bibliothek, Donnerstag nachmittag

 

When tapped, laptop keys sound like small glass beads clinking together;

when dropped on wooden desks pens and pencils sound largely the same

only the quality of wood on wood is denser, the plastic on wood more transparent;

when opened, bottles of fizzy liquid hiss, unimpressed at the impertinence;

when placed on wooden desks elbows can make either no noise, or a small

whuffing thump depending on the force used to put them there;

when opened in not-silence a chocolate bars' wrapper will shout unabashedly;

when swung outwards doors will emit a hallways' muffled chatter

like a small child desperate to lighten the mood;

when pushed backwards instead of lifted chairs will moan;

when drawn open or closed zips will whine or drone

depending on the speed with which they are pulled;

when dropped on the floor a book will give a hearty flap of complaint;

when floating in the cavern of a library, whispers in a foreign language

sound much like the unintelligible secrets of the universe;

when surrounded by studious young people there's a tendency

to wonder if you have ever taken anything seriously at all.