There’s a certain magic in stage lights.
The moment before the first note.
The breath you take when the crowd goes quiet.
I still love that feeling.
But lately, I’ve found myself drawn to a different kind of light — the softer one in the studio. The one that doesn’t demand anything. The one that lets you take your time.
After years of touring, moving, adapting, performing, I felt the need to slow things down. Not because I lost passion — but because I wanted to hear myself again.
In the studio, there’s no applause. No instant feedback. Just sound, ideas, mistakes, silence. And that’s where I’ve been reconnecting with why I started making music in the first place.
Studio work asks for patience. It asks you to sit with unfinished thoughts. To try, fail, adjust, and try again. It’s quieter — but deeper.
This shift doesn’t mean I’m stepping away from the stage.
It means I’m giving space to another part of my creativity.
Right now, that feels exactly right.
