In the cottage of my mind, the word "numbers" occupies a white room, stark and clinical. White furniture fills the space, yet it doesn't overwhelm, leaving just enough room for you to wander, tricking you into believing you might find depth in the shallowness, but never quite enough to grasp it fully. In the realm of music, numbers mirror logic in love—they offer guidance but lack the soulful essence of the craft.

I thought I’d turned out the light in the numbers room when I decided to pull from creating and posting social media content a few weeks ago, but I’ve since realized this illumination is perpetual. The idea of sidestepping numbers entirely in an industry that treats them as the key to enter some grand mansion castle (while I prefer the comfort of my cottage), is naive. I have to acknowledge the game I’m playing, as much as I actively write my own rules.

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