The right path twists, winds, and circles in on itself in several impossible turns. The bookshelves bordering it become taller until they start to lean inwards a bit. The incandescent yellow shop lights become dim, hidden in their looming shadows.

I don't think knocking them over would improve anything.
Destroying them might, though.
How much of a direct analogue do you think this space is supposed to be?
Would burning down part of it make me forget things?

A dead end, bordered by shelves behind a mishappen pile of books on the floor, as if they've been thrown there by someone having a tantrum. But an odd crease of bright white light peeks through the place where two of the bookshelves meet, promising something else behind them.