I began to organize the next song from the sessions in Sweden. The task itself pleased me, for it was the kind of problem that contained within it both confusion and promise, the twin conditions of honest work. How to take these sessions, born of goodwill and spontaneous music-making, yet blurred and imperfect and bring them into clearer light? How to reveal what was already there without betraying its nature? As I listened, I felt again the strange joy of those hours the musicians gathered, the air alive with trust and uncertainty. The playing was free, perhaps too free; the sound wandered like thought before discipline. But there were moments, flashes, where something pure appeared a truth not written, not rehearsed. It seemed to me that the duty of art was not to conceal such moments beneath polish, but to set them gently among other voices so they might be seen and heard as they truly were. I resolved to add new parts not to control the freedom, but illuminate it. To strengthen by contrast, as a painter deepens color with shadow. The unexpected, if placed rightly, can remind the listener of what is most natural. I think this will surprise them, and, if I am fortunate, awaken the same wonder I felt when the music first came into being. That quiet astonishment at how disorder, when treated with care, reveals its own form of harmony.