I've always listened to things. I try to pick out patterns and exceptions that may give clues to trivial details. A truck climbing over the bridge brings transmission noises that traitor out a new driver or perhaps just a worn gear box.
I smile when the Coast Guard is busy. Their engines create a unique sound pattern when they maneuver, it echoes lazily up and down the bay pulsing slower then my heart. Close your eyes and focus, you might find it soothing.
I also listen to people. The sounds they make when talking can be delightful or painful. We sometimes think they aren't listening to us, but they are. They are hearing the sounds, the noise and cadence of our speech. This keeps them from hearing the words. They may decide not to listen when our speech stumbles out all jumbled like a band warming up, or blaring loud in fits and sputters, a child playing the trumpet.
Then there are the times when we hear emotions. We can tell a happy person from a sad one by how they talk. You're a good listener when you hear the emotion and the words at the same time.
I find anger and loathing easy. They strike out loud and obvious.
The painful side is that sometimes you can hear the agony. It is a dark and quiet sound that fills in the voids that injustice and betrayals create, torn open without thought or pity.
Then in the smallest spaces, even between breaths, my mind wonders what sound of heart break, what sound the tortured soul?
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