Eighty Scholarly Monkeys

... though libraries were fine places in themselves, the finest of places, actually, I always found it impossible to complete the tasks I had been assigned for the simple reason that the more often I went there the more aware I became of the other readers, and the more aware I became of the other readers the more I noticed the profusion of nervous tics and compulsive behavior which seemed to flourish in these places.  Pretty soon it was impossible to concentrate on anything, what with the girl to my right chewing her nails and the girl to my left digging at her head, and it did not take long to realize that most people are fidgeters, as if synaptic activity were encouraged by endless scratching and fidgeting, and before long I had the impression I was in a room with eighty scholarly monkeys, busily delousing as they sat reading their books or typing at their computers, and at those rare moments when I looked up and no one was doing anything I felt as if  truce had been called or an anhel were flying overhead and, out of deference, the monkeys had removed their paws from their faces and hair.

 Chloe Aridjis, Book of Clouds