Ears in the Walls

Sometimes living in this apartment is like being in a silent movie, except the other way around.  Instead of seeing people's lips move and waiting for the caption, I hear noises and seeing a blank wall, or a houseplant, or some books, I am made aware of the world outside the confines of my immediate visual register.  So I see two things simultaneously, the blank wall, the familiar furniture, and in my imagination I see a red fire engine careening down a street, or the smash-up of cartoon cars in a French mime movie, complete with the rolling metal hubcaps and black leotards.  Or hearing the colorless, illegible voice of a TV, somehow I'm  transported in time, to 1972, when TV speakers weren't all that good, and mom and dad were staying up late, watching a movie they don't want me to see in the other room.  If I let my mind go there, I can even smell the stale cigarette smoke and the dog odor of my friend's house.  And that really low frequency drone, which in all reality is probably someone's poorly adjusted subwoofer, but underlies all consciousness like a sonic boom heard v.............e...............r..............y.............
s.......l..........o..........w...........l........y.  I can't tell if it is coming from above or below, and the latter hypotheses gives credence to the people who promote the hollow earth theory.  Another possibility is that the upstairs neighbors are having  an Eckankar meeting and are attempting to find the Divine Frequency.  For all of our sakes, I hope they find it soon.