Oh, the Reg.  I dream about this place at least once a week.  No exaggeration.  I used it in elementary school, high school, not to mention college.  Different floors for different moods.  Fourth floor was my jam. I studied in the stacks, in the basement coffee shop (“Ex Libris”), in the cubicles, on the wide wooden tables, in the soft orange chairs by the windows.  I hid out and read all the books by  Vonnegut, Irving, E.L. Doctorow on the third floor bookshelves.  I slept there, flirted there, procrastinated, cried, daydreamed, disobeyed my parents there.  No wonder it still haunts me.  

tien:

Our brutalist library.

The Regenstein.