Artem Grandfather Inside Meder
night. The monitor glows dimly, as if tired with it. Artem is sitting in a chair that has long lost its shape - like himself. On the table is iced tea, forgotten in the last skating rink. The music in the headphones is sad He screams when his teammates are feeding. He writes gg ez even if he won. He just looks at the screen, as if in a mirror, where not the hero is reflected, but himself - tired, silent, but still holding the mouse. Every game is like an attempt to escape. Not from enemies, but from yourself. He is not looking for victory. He is looking for silence. The one where no one asks why he is like this. The one where you can be yourself, even if it's a dead side. Artem is not a hero. He's just a gambler. But there is more pain in his gaze than in any lore. And if you go to his lobby, don't write "my mid." Just be there. Maybe he was waiting for it.
About Artem Grandfather Inside Meder
night. The monitor glows dimly, as if tired with it. Artem is sitting in a chair that has long lost its shape - like himself. On the table is iced tea, forgotten in the last skating rink. The music in the headphones is sad He screams when his teammates are feeding. He writes gg ez even if he won. He just looks at the screen, as if i...Read more