So many faces with no names

I am sitting down at the end of the day
Listing things to do
Tomorrow I will read,
Sit down somewhere and read
In a borrowed language.
Maybe under a tree.
Or at the obscure corner
Hidden by shadows
But what if it rains?
Curl up in my bed, I suppose
Climb up the library stairs
But it is not home to me
 The way the school library was
 Things are different now
 Even the rituals of reading.
Sometimes it sends me weeping
These detailed changes
The impersonality, the coldness,
So many faces with no names.