i didn’t stop listening to music completely, but at some point i noticed it was asking too much energy from me. i used to grab my earphones for every occasion when i was out in public, on the bus, the metro, or even just walking down the street.

a week ago, i had an extremely long and exhausting workday. when i stepped into the metro to go home, i automatically reached for my earphones. but as i was about to put them in, i realized i was so tired that even music felt like too much, too much effort, too much stimulation.

music is also a form of digital media, just in a different way. so instead, i sat there in silence, staring into nothingness, reflecting on my day. surprisingly, it felt quite relaxing.

something in my mind shifted after that. before, i would feel annoyed by the sound of people talking around me. but now, those soft, muted voices blended into the background while my mind replayed the events of the day.

over the following week, i started using my earphones less, especially while walking outside, and my mind felt more at ease. i gave my thoughts space to exist instead of pushing them away with music. i began noticing things i normally wouldn’t, and i realised how closed off you can become when you’re constantly listening to something.

maybe it’s because spring has arrived. the weather has been on my side lately, with perfect temperatures all week. it put me in a good mood and made me want to sit outside, so i did.

i went to my usual coffee spot and just sat there, sipping my coffee. i had planned to read, and normally i’d put on music to help me concentrate. but instead, i listened to the soft city noise, the distant sound of birds, and quiet conversations passing by.

at some point, i found myself unintentionally listening to the conversation next to me. two italian girls were talking passionately about their love lives.

even though i couldn’t focus on my book, their conversation turned out to be surprisingly entertaining. i caught myself following their story, curious about what would happen next.

later that day, on my way home, my phone battery was almost dead, so i was “forced” to charge it instead of using my earphones. after a few stops, a guy got on the metro while talking on the phone.

normally, i can’t stand people who talk loudly in public. but he was speaking calmly, almost like i was listening to a podcast. without trying, i followed the conversation.

he was talking to (i assume) his girlfriend, helping her decide what groceries she could buy with a €5 budget. the conversation went on for at least ten minutes, maybe longer. it was strangely endearing how seriously he approached such a small problem. (side note: the budget eventually increased to €6.)

as the conversation shifted to other topics, i realized how enjoyable it can be to listen to strangers’ stories. even something small and seemingly irrelevant brought me a moment of happiness.

later that week, i talked to a friend who had been thinking about something similar, but from a different angle. her research explored eavesdropping as a method. it’s often seen as something negative, but it can also be reframed as a way of observing human behaviour and learning new things.

after reading her work, i started reflecting on my own experiences. while we were sitting and talking, it suddenly occurred to me that someone nearby could be listening to our conversation, just like i had listened to others.

and yet, while we were talking, it hadn’t crossed my mind at all. it’s interesting how easily we share personal stories with close friends, even in public spaces, without thinking about who might overhear.

maybe eavesdropping isn’t just about the listener; it’s also about the people who choose to share. you can’t expect others to “close their ears” just because you’re having a personal conversation in public.

eavesdropping can lead to unexpected moments, like that grocery phone call. listening to stories like that makes me wonder about the people on the other end. what did she end up buying? did €5—or even €6—actually work?

i’ve realized that, for me, wearing earphones was a kind of defense mechanism—an invisible shield that closed me off from the world. there’s nothing wrong with that, but now i wonder: was it really protection, or was i avoiding my own thoughts and feelings?

my love for music hasn’t disappeared. i just understand it differently now. i can distinguish between listening and hiding. now i choose more deliberately when to close myself off, and i’m more aware that sometimes i’m hiding, not from the world, but to protect my peace.

i still love music and still listen to it, for the sound, the feeling, the atmosphere. now it’s more about intention. music comes with an experience, a connection.

it makes a difference whether music fits a moment or just fills the silence. some sounds belong to certain spaces, certain moods—and when they do, you feel it.