I hear sound and see vivid color and shape in motion. This is my private visual language — made visible for the first time.
When a car honks its horn, I see three green circles. They don't stay still. They pulse once, drift toward each other, then pull apart. The green has weight. It has temperature.
This is not a metaphor. I have synesthesia. Every sound in my world arrives with a color, a shape, a movement that no one else can see.
"I have been watching a private light show for as long as I can remember."
Click any to hear the tone that lives inside that color.
My friend's voice is pale peach. My brother's is cobalt blue. My mother's is a sunflower with flicks of silver.
I still don't entirely know whether what I carry is a gift or just a strangeness I have learned to live inside. But I am finally describing what I see.
Read What the Colors Sing on Substack