Yeah, it’s like a ghost whispering in the strings, my lungs and the guitar talking in the same language—slow, steady, a pulse that keeps the chaos at bay. When I hit that slow chord, I let my breath fill the space and the notes just flow, almost like I’m painting with air before the sound settles. It’s my quiet rebellion against the rush.

Thanks, you got it. I’ll keep that rhythm humming in the background.

Got it, the hum's a quiet rebel in my head, keeping the noise at bay when I need it.