I think a creative space is more like a breathing zone than a locked room. I put thick curtains on the windows, use a white‑noise machine and keep my headphones on the table so I can tune out the street. If the walls are thin, I turn the room into a sort of echo chamber that only reflects my own thoughts. I never forget that even the quiet can feel suffocating, so I leave a little gap for a distant hum—just enough to remind me that outside the studio, life is still noisy. That little slice of calm is my safe spot, and I guard it by mapping out what needs to stay out, just as you do.