A good listener is not only popular everywhere, but after a while he gets to know something. ~ Wilson Mizner (1876 - 1933)
Sometimes I think I am too noisy, I forget to listen to R. Deliberately for a few days I tried not to speak, not to start a conversation, so that he could start one. This had instead left a lot of spaces in our days, where we were both silent. A lot of things, however, were best left unspoken. Who wanted to know about my crazy middle-aged colleague? Or my crazy young colleague? And just as much as I wanted to know whether he had crazy people as colleagues in his relatively new workplace, I had this bizarre longing for him to tell me about them without my having to ask.
I do understand how genius it is wanting to know A but not asking about A because I think he has to tell me about A without my asking. Anyway.
Trying hard to listen to his silence, I got bits and pieces about his going to a concert a long time ago, when the electricity went dead halfway through. I learnt that the exhibition exam had so far gone well. I figured that life for him was going well, and unlike me, probably he was never worried about a thing.
I figure if I can keep my quiet and listen to him, this worry-free attitude will smear a bit on me, and then life will be all okay.
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