The Last Refuge

Whatever happened to the sanctity of the library? A long time ago, someone told me that it always has to be quiet in the library. „Shhh kid, this is the library.“ Especially now, in this time of emotional tumult and academic suicide, this time of rambunctious roommates and German listening exercises, I count on the library to be there for me, as I remember it being. As it needs to be. But now I find, it is no more. On the first floor chatter is allowed. Vestiges of conversations in the lobby waft across the computer cubicles and wither away on their way to the window-facing armchairs. Traditionally, the sound goes no further than this. But alas! We find that the second floor is no more amenable to working than a dorm lounge. The third, seeming no more promising, we pass. And on the fourth, oh fourth floor, bastion of solitude, quiet heaven of peace, some shitty econ majors march in, sit down, and start yelling something about game theory. This day, this moment, this breath marks the end of silence. I would suggest a moment of silence, but the days of memorial are apparently also gone.