A misanthropist heaven

We've found this quiet little corner at the library to study in between lessons, I would say as Emily Bronte did - that it is the perfect misanthropist heaven, at least so for a imperfect misanthropist like myself. But it is funny that in this silence which was suppose to facilitate actual studying, we've come across some odd features around us that we would never have had realized if not for the situation we have put ourselves under.

From that odd man who brings along a sleeping bag, and places himself between shelves DS231 - DS280 without fail every single day, he would just lay on his 'bed' and simply read his day away. It seems like the shelves provides the walls of his habitat and books the fodder for his existence.

Then there is another, an elderly man, who I gather to be in his late seventies or early eighties. He dresses well, in his well pressed coat, he seems to be around all the time, punching the keys to the keyboard and screeching his eyes through those dark rimmed glasses. He is also a regular feature, I glanced at him once, he looked back and nodded his head in recognition, as if he knew I was wondering what was he doing there everyday.

Then we have the students like ourselves, who somehow have found fondness for this part of the library. They come and they go, but then over time, you somehow know who is who. Not that I knew them, we've hardly spoken a word, but their mere presence somehow assured me that I was not on the wrong set, and life just goes on.

So is it with the odd old man or that odd man slumped in his odd sleeping bag. I look for them everyday to be there, if they weren't for some reason one day, I guess I would then become the perfect misanthropist in a perfect misanthropist heaven.