Close your eyes for a moment.
What do you hear?

I want you to listen, not to the obvious things, but to the often overlooked language of aliveness.

The breath of the room. The sigh that escapes your chest when you finally sit down to rest. The quiet rustle of fabric against your skin.

Over the years, I have grown hypersensitive to sound, so much so that I don’t always appreciate it. But lately, I have amplified my attention to the symphony of noises around me.

The low, velvety rasp of my partner’s voice.
The muffled slap of bare feet on the concrete floor.
The clickity click of the gas stove vooshing to life.
The reverberating plop of a single drop of water splashing in the sink.

Everything has a rhythm, and when I tune in, I can feel that pulse in me too.

Sometimes it’s the scoot of blinds being pulled back—like light making an entrance.

Or the scratch of a lead against paper as I spill my heart between the lines.

The holy hush of breath coursing in and out of lungs in muzzled silence.

I yearn for those sounds.
Intimate noise that lives beneath words.

Sensuality is more than what we see, touch, and feel. It’s also what we tune into. What we allow to move us from the inside out.

Right now, under the cloak of night. I am listening.
To the quiet. To the stir. To the sound of my existence.

Are you?

xo,