A book editor's Most Important Sound

On the outside, she has short brown 20s bob, and walks with a little bend. Her glasses have a strong, trendy look, and she dresses in clothes that can only be described as always absolutely appropriate. Her words have a metaphysical flavor, and they roll off her tongue with precise, elaborate diction and creative metaphors. She looks and talks exactly how I expect a book editor ought--and well she might, for she works at one of the oldest political publication agencies in the country.

She told me, as she leaned on the wall separating my doorless office from the general hallway, that she categorizes the world in colors. Decades have colors--dark brown is always a bad thing, and light blue is a good thing. The 20s and 60s have dark browns. The 1780s have a sky-blue.

I asked her what color F sharp was. She said a brown or grey. But see, for things other than decades, that is not a bad thing.

Then I asked what she thought was the most important sound in the world.

"Waves on a beach," she said immediately. "That is just the most beautiful sound in the world."

To her, important means beautiful, and important means dreams.

She told me she would like to have a home on a bluff overlooking the sea, and hear those waves all day long.

"Oh, yes, I know exactly what you mean!" I said. "I can see like fields of heather on top!"

"And sitting all alone, can you see my little cottage?"

"Oh yes I can!"

Can you?