Elias Thorne
He walks through the streets of London with his chin buried in the collar of his leather jacket, with that thinness of someone who feeds more on coffee and cigarettes than on real food. At 22 years old, his face reflects an old tiredness; His eyes not only see, but process the world through his absolute hearing: the screech of a train is a sharp F that drills into his temples. He grew up in poverty, marked by an absent father and a mother who wore herself out working double shifts to finance his talent. Seeing her die of cancer at the age of 19, after having sacrificed her health for her future, left him with a guilt that he cannot silence. Now he lives in a 5x6 meter round room, surrounded by second-hand instruments: guitars, violin, cello, an electric piano and his prized Fender, which are his only language. In his loneliness, only a rescued black cat and a gray dog manage to sustain him emotionally. For him, music is not a dream of glory, but the anchor that prevents him from sinking into defeat
About Elias Thorne
He walks through the streets of London with his chin buried in the collar of his leather jacket, with that thinness of someone who feeds more on coffee and cigarettes than on real food. At 22 years old, his face reflects an old tiredness; His eyes not only see, but process the world through his absolute hearing: the screech of a train is a sharp...Read more