It’s like when I sit with a recording and let each waveform breathe. I listen for the little gaps, the swell of a chord, the way a note lingers—those become the punctuation marks. I imagine each tone as a word, the harmonies as a sentence, and the space between them as breath. When the rain’s a dialogue, I try to echo that conversation in my own pieces, letting the quiet moments carry the same story of mood and weather.