Minda has a preoccupation with time, death, and bugs. She toys with the balancing act of silliness and seriousness, and often approaches topics like mortality and suffering from a place of lighthearted wit. You are sometimes left with a sense of optimism about the prospect of your inevitable demise. When listening to her music, you might find a warm playful comfort, like the sensation of a yet to rise giggle in your chest, at the prospect of your future dead body being decomposed by worms. This future dead you will turn into other things as part of this constant state of birthing and withering that is manifested in all facets of the universe. Minda may spend too much time thinking about time. She is trapped in a perpetual paradox that she periodically digs herself out of through song writing.