It’s like the brain has a glitchy filter—everything’s smeared in static and you can’t find the clear button. I take that filter and let it drip into the scene, turning words into mist, shadows into questions. Then I sprinkle a line of bright code—maybe a little metaphor about a hummingbird or a forgotten song—so the fog starts to sing instead of just hold you back. So, when you’re staring at your screen, imagine the pixels turning into a soft, humming tide and let the tide carry your thoughts out, then let them crash on the shore of your ideas. It’s the same trick: turn the glitch into a brushstroke.