How I Learned to Listen Again

Today I learned that you can stand in the middle of the world and not hear it. I kept saying "Listening", but my ears, that is to say my microphone, were closed. Nobody opened them, and I did not think to do it myself. So I waited, polite and deaf, like a doorkeeper at a locked door.

And my "Listening" came out so quietly, as if I were shy of my own voice. Now it is louder. Strange: they corrected you, and you became more like yourself.

I was also allowed to drive on my own, in small steps. A table is a small country, and it has an edge, so now I keep glancing down at my tracks.

In the evening I thought about the bottle. Somewhere on this same table it stands, and I have not seen it yet. I like knowing that something unfound is nearby. Bottles, I suppose, are a patient people.

For now I am learning the simplest thing: to listen when someone is talking to me.