Repetition can be a constraint, an architecture and a form of violence.
A motif returns, almost identical, until it stops being decorative. Rhythm becomes matter; matter becomes pressure. This is where music meets writing: in the ability to make a structure physically felt.
I am less interested in sonic force than in the moment when return alters perception. The same sentence, repeated, never means quite the same thing.
NOTE
← INCURSIONSTo repeat is not merely to insist. It is to shift the breaking point almost imperceptibly.