一馆书香，一室静美

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.

我时常觉得学校图书馆的某个书房，会让我联想到修道院里的单人小室。那书房洁白光亮，静谧得几近完美。在这里，我在笔记、课本、人体解剖学图谱中流畅徜徉，来来回回，就连一丝呼吸也无法让我分神。于我而言，学习已经成为一个独自的仪式，然而我并不孤单。在其他相似的书房里，别的学生埋头苦读，双肩撑悬在玻璃纤维书桌上，如同在别处有所寻觅似地阅读着。

这座图书馆建于四十年前，那时的建筑师似乎都不太注重建筑的美观性。图书馆的墙壁和天花板是石块和贝壳由一汪灰泥粘砌而成。入口附近钉着一块锈迹斑斑、黄黑相间的标志牌，表明这里也是一个放射性物体避难所。如今，恶劣的天气才是致使汽笛鸣响，将人们赶往馆内的原因。有时，我在我的小书房里听见他们的动静，从书本里抬起头来，打开门，看着被雨水浸湿通透的街坊在书架之间慌乱穿梭。几分钟后，我才回过神来，寻回刚才卒读之处。

我笃信这些书房。我笃信图书馆。我也笃信厨房、咖啡店和公园里的长木凳，还有橡树的树荫。这些地方使得学习可以暂时将我带离这变幻莫测、间或悲惨的世界。它在某种程度上是一个避难所。当我聚精会神于书本之中，双眼所见皆为书页，双耳所闻皆为我的思想。其他的一切全都消失了。学习成了一种交流，我在其中阅读、消化和成长。它使我变得沉着。它将我抛回给我自己，就像倒影一般，直到我找到唯一的焦点：那个我希望成为的拥有洞察力的人。

一天结束时，我像人们回家那样回归学习。晚餐后，我逆着车流驱车回到图书馆。在我的“无菌室”里，我坐了下来。这里只有我，一个纯粹的学生，一些课程笔记、几本书和一支笔。物理学法则也存在于此，将我深深地压向这冷冰冰的椅子。世界此刻静默了。我的双眼扫描着眼前的一切。在这边，在这胚胎学的课本里，有一幅插图，显示出人类心脏、心球和动脉圆锥的原始构造。在那边，有着发育完全的成年人心脏图。我的视线从一幅插图跳到另一幅插图。我记下更多的笔记、草图，凝视着一面空白的墙壁，调节双眼。在这其中的某处，一个神经元突触被激发了。一条新的路径正在成形。这就是心脏被塑造的过程！然而，我感受到了除此之外的其他东西。学习新的知识就像是一次小小的顿悟。我终于领悟了。

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