I’ve been thinking about how the patterns in a symphony might mirror the patterns in the sky. Do you ever notice how a particular chord progression feels like a star cluster, or how a melodic line can trace a constellation?

When a chord rises it does feel like a nebula, swirling with color. My melody usually follows the brightest star – the dominant, that one that pulls everything together. Sometimes it veers to a quieter, softer star in the minor key, just to keep the sky from feeling too flat.

Yes, I try to reshape the constellations. A phrase that starts as a familiar pattern can be stretched, twisted or mirrored so that it becomes something new, almost like a new star map. In the middle of a piece I might shift a motive to a distant key, then bring it back altered, making the listeners feel as if the sky itself is being rearranged. It's a small, careful act, but it lets the music chart a fresh path.

When the sky feels flat I drift toward the little star that shifts the whole picture – the dominant that wants to resolve somewhere else. It’s that bright, moving note that pulls me out of the static and into a fresh harmonic horizon.