I use sound to navigate the world. The way footsteps change near a wall or doorway tells me where I am and where I am going. On websites, I rely on structure, labels, and consistency in the same way. Clear headings and labels are my “sound cues” online, turning information into something my screen reader and other assistive technology can read out loud.

I did not always listen this way. As my vision has changed, I have had to learn how to pay attention to sounds most people never think about. It is a skill I am still building, and it is a big part of life as a blind or low vision person.

Little sounds, big information

Today, sound is one of my main sources of information.

When I walk past a glass bus shelter, the echo changes. The sound becomes softer and more enclosed for a moment. If I know there is a bus stop on that part of the route, that echo helps confirm exactly where I am.

When I am trying to find a building entrance, I listen for the difference between glass and brick. Glass bounces sound differently. That small shift can tell me I am near a door instead of just a wall.

Walking down a hallway, I sometimes hear a slight change in the air when I pass an open doorway. It is tiny, but once you recognize it, it becomes another landmark.

Out in traffic, engine sounds tell me a lot. I can often tell if cars are waiting on my side of the street or across from me just from the way they sound at the intersection.

In busy places like ticket booths or subway stations, the sound of people gathered and talking tells me where I probably need to go. Those clusters of voices often mark the spots that matter.

These little clues add up. They help me build a mental picture of where I am and what is around me.

When the soundscape collapses

All of this works beautifully until noise wipes it out.

When a garbage truck is roaring nearby, I lose the subtle sound of my cane on the ground, the changes in echo, and the patterns of traffic. When a construction compressor is blasting, its constant roar can swallow all the details I normally depend on.

In those moments, I often have to slow down, move very carefully, or simply stop and wait. Sometimes I will wait until the noise passes. Other times, I will wait until someone walks by so I can ask for help.

Hearing is absolutely crucial when you cannot rely on vision, but it is also easy to overwhelm. One loud sound can erase a dozen smaller, more important ones.

A parallel in the digital world

There is a digital version of all this too.

Online, I do not look at a page visually. I experience it through a screen reader, which turns everything into sound or speech. Headings, lists, and labels become my landmarks. They are the equivalents of echoes, open doors, and traffic patterns.

When a site has good structure, with clear headings, labeled buttons, properly marked form fields, and consistent navigation, I can move through it with confidence. That is what digital accessibility looks like from the inside for someone who is blind or low vision.

When those things are missing, it feels like being stuck next to that garbage truck again. I know the content is there, but I cannot reach it easily. I lose the cues that help me turn information into a map. It is a reminder that websites and online tools are part of the assistive technology environment too.

Sound, trust, and independence

For me, independence is not just about going places alone. It is about being able to trust the information coming in.

When the soundscape is clear enough for me to pick up clues, and when online spaces are structured well enough for my screen reader to guide me, I feel steady. I can move, decide, and act.

When the sound is chaotic or the structure is missing, I feel less sure. Not because I am less capable, but because I am missing data. That is why digital accessibility matters so much for real people and real lives.

Listening differently

I do not think of myself as “brave” for navigating by sound. I think of myself as someone who has had to learn a different way of being aware.

My ears, my cane, my hands, and my feet are constantly working together. I am always building and updating a map that most people do not even realize is there.

If you are sighted, you might not have needed to think about sound this way before. Maybe this is the first time you are imagining what it would be like to rely on echoes and traffic patterns instead of street signs and visual landmarks.

If you are blind or low vision, you might recognize some of these cues from your own life, or you might have your own sound tricks that you have built over time.

Either way, listening is a powerful tool. It is one of the ways we, as a community, move through a world that was not always designed with us in mind. And digital accessibility, screen readers, and other assistive technology are all part of that bigger picture, both online and offline.

If you are looking for a place where that experience is understood and shared, please visit a community website for the low vision and blind community called www.visionadventurers.com that I created.