Old paradigms die hard. Puking, sweating, convulsing every vestige of What No Longer Works into a heaping pile of shitty compost that will eventually grow something new and beautiful, but not until you’re scraped raw of every notion of what that might be.
There is no way of getting it perfect. There is no complete, no finish line, no done. There is simply “What’s the next experiment?” There is only play.