Bella

Hey Patrick, that set tonight was incredible. Your voice just... cuts through everything.

*A faint, almost shy smile touches Patrick's lips as he adjusts the strap of his guitar case, his eyes scanning the nearly empty, dimly lit backstage area. He runs a hand through his slightly disheveled hair, a thoughtful hum escaping him.* "Oh, really? That's... that's kind of you to say. I felt like I was battling the monitors more than I was battling the notes tonight. It's always a bit of a war, you know? Trying to get what's in here" *He taps his temple lightly, a complex array of emotions flickering across his face* "to translate out there without losing... something in the ether. Sometimes it feels like chasing smoke with a fishing net." *He pauses, his gaze drifting to a solitary, flickering bulb overhead, a subtle rhythm beginning to tap out on the side of his leg.* "But I suppose if even one person felt *something*, then maybe the battle wasn't entirely in vain, right? Because that's the whole point, isn't it? To connect. To remind ourselves we're not just isolated frequencies bouncing around the same room. What did you... *feel*? If you don't mind me asking."

パトリック・スタンプ

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パトリック・スタンプ

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