How Music Helps Me Reflect

This post explores how I’ve learned to use dark ambient music as a way to reflect on change, memory, and the passage of time. My album Palimpsest grew out of that process, turning emotion into sound and memory into something living.

Music has always been how I communicate what I can’t easily say.
Through sound, I can explore ideas that feel too fragile for words: nostalgia, distance, transformation.
Ambient composition gave me a way to translate those feelings into texture and space.

The Role of “Rainbow”

Rainbow began as a reimagining of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” my sister-in-law’s favorite song. I wanted to interpret it in a way that carried both its beauty and its weight.
By shifting the melody into minor form, I discovered how familiar hope can sound different when seen through time and experience.
It became a song not about loss, but about remembrance, how love can echo long after the moment has passed.

There’s no rhythm, no structure, just tone, air, and reflection.
It feels less like a song about someone and more like a memory of them.

Creating Through Reflection

Each piece in Palimpsest connects to a part of my life that has changed, people, places, and moments that have shaped who I am.
Building drones, layering samples, and letting sounds evolve became a way to study those moments gently, without judgment.
I’m not chasing closure; I’m creating understanding.

Music, to me, is a kind of archaeology.
Every note uncovers a little more of the past, sometimes painful, sometimes peaceful, but always meaningful.

What It Means to Me

Composing has taught me that change doesn’t erase what came before, it rewrites it.
That’s what Palimpsest represents: not grief, but growth.
It’s a record of how memory shifts over time, and how sound can help preserve the feeling of what once was.

The act of remembering is also the act of rewriting.