I'll be drawing on personal experience today with my free-form poem about noise in libraries...
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The library is only truly quiet when it's closed.
The typing and whispering and page turning starts
And the squeaky wheel on each of the book carts
The clunk and clack of the automatic doors
And shuffling and stomping across the threadbare floors
The AC's whoosh and the water fountain's hum
And the chewing, smacking, popping of gum
Giggles and comments and questions abound
Books are dropped and answers are found
Shelving thumps and scanning beeps
A baby in a carrier weeps
The printer's noisy task adds more
To the librarian's tiresome shushing chore
So try as we might to keep the volume down,
There will still always be some level of sound.
The library is only truly quiet when it's closed.
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