Reading is Listening

Reading an essay

And wondering why I am hearing her

Reading is listening

Yet,
there is no absolute reason for me to listen to her stories

I don’t know her
Never heard her name before
I don’t know how she looks like
I don’t even know whether she is still alive
She is not here. Not in front of me now

Yet,
I’ve spent the past hour listening to her words

Looking back,
I’ve read millions of books so far

Looking back,
I’ve spent a million hours listening to the words of people who I don't know at all

This is such a strange thing

I have no reason to listen to their stories

Yet, I do
almost always very spontaneously
almost always instinctively