Describe a quiet place

The quiet place I'd like to describe is a particular corner of a public library near where I used to work — not the main reading room, but a smaller section on the second floor that most people seemed to walk past without noticing. I started going there almost by accident. I'd originally gone to the library to return a book, noticed the upstairs section, and came back the following week to use it for something I needed to concentrate on. After that it became a habit. What I'd do there is mostly read or work through problems I couldn't think clearly about elsewhere. The combination of the ambient quiet — you could hear occasional footsteps and the turn of pages, but nothing sharper than that — and the fact that no one expected anything of me there made it the most productive space I've found. What made it special wasn't the silence exactly. It was more the anonymity. Nobody knew me there. My phone signal was poor enough to make casual checking feel like extra effort. And there was something about being surrounded by shelved books — a slightly absurd amount of accumulated thought — that made my own problems seem more approachable rather than less. I haven't used it in about two years, partly because I moved to a different part of the city. I do miss it, in a low-key way. Specific places can become associated with a particular version of how you think, and I haven't found a replacement yet.