I’ve always been drawn to a photo I once saw in a documentary about drummers, where the camera ran for a full second on a single beat. The sticks leave long, shimmering trails that look almost like a musical score, and the drummer’s body is captured mid‑motion, a silhouette against the pulsing light of the stage. The blur of the sticks and the sharp edges of the cymbals create a visual rhythm that feels almost audible—you can almost hear the snare’s crack and the bass drum’s thud. It sings because the composition turns motion into a pattern; every line and shadow syncs with a beat, turning the image into a living rhythm you can feel in your chest.