Repetition in my work feels like a steady drumbeat—an anchor that keeps the piece from drifting into chaos. I set a pattern first, like a metronome, so the cadence stays true. It’s a ritual that lets me focus on the finer notes without constantly checking if I’ve reached the “perfect” line. But if I stay on that loop too long, the sound can become predictable, and that’s when my self‑criticism kicks in. So I usually slip in a subtle shift or an unexpected chord, a little break in the rhythm, to remind myself that perfection isn’t a flat, endless note—it's the small improvisations that keep it alive.