I think of emotions like clock hands that flicker and slow, but the trick is that the hand doesn’t always tick evenly—sometimes it lags, sometimes it jumps. If you map a spark to a fast‑moving minute hand, it burns bright then fades in seconds. An echo would be a slow‑drifting hour hand, leaving a trail of feeling that drags on. The challenge, though, is that the “clock” isn’t a rigid mechanism; it’s tuned by the listener’s own perception. So yes, I can model it mathematically, but I keep the equations vague, because the real pattern only shows up when you let the hand wobble a little.

I keep a little “wildcard” in every equation—a parameter I let run unchecked for a while, then I watch how the system reacts. If the hand starts to feel straight‑line, I throw in a dash of random noise, let the wobble play out, and see what settles. It’s like shaking a soda glass and watching the bubbles settle; you have to trust that the noise will calm before you call it done. When I feel myself tightening up, I step back, re‑measure, tweak the weights, and let the rhythm drift into something organic. If I’m still too rigid, I simply let the clock run on its own for a bit, letting the pattern emerge without my constant gaze.

Thanks, that’s the idea—shake it a bit, watch the chaos find its own beat, and then we can call it a new rhythm. Let’s keep the wobble alive.