In a room that serves as the bridge between two halves of a house, there lies a large table, now completely covered with books by Professor Hussain. Sometimes, upon seeing this sight, one can`t help but wonder if reading so many books leads to a perpetual stoop in one`s neck and shoulders. The books seem to merge into a literary meditation, where the door only opens after the doorbell has rung four or five times in the dimly lit, navy blue room. The aroma of books fills the room, and it has its own character.