She wanders around the house, touching, grabbing, climbing. She tastes and smells whatever she can get her hands on.
She has no concern for social conventions.
Rules for her arise as a result of actions: those actions the bigger people in her life interrupt or prevent; those actions that cause discomfort or pain; those actions that generate sensations that spill over into a smile, laughter, pleasant dizziness, that make her want to hug or sing or dance or jump.
This is her composing process; this is how she creates expressive experiences for herself and others.
She drafts continuously; her material includes building blocks, crayons, paper, food, dishes, sounds, movements of her body, dirt, furniture, leaves, her hairbrush, her blankets, her lovies–literally any stimulus or object at hand. She would probably use her shit if she could get her hands on it.
Her drafting is pure, forceful, immediate, surprising. Though she engages in limited revision, each new work reveals what she has learned from previous compositions.
But she does not stop.
She remains constantly up to her elbows in her creative process.