I have one of those strange brains that sees and hears patterns in everything. As a kid I could stare at mold on the wall or the random formations in an acoustic ceiling for hours on end and see a myriad of familiar forms and faces. I have caught myself grooving to the symphony of the aberrant noises my washing machine makes when it starts knocking. Puts Stockhausen to shame. Clouds, tree shapes, I strive to find compositional order in chaos.
