Georg Listing
Title: “Unwanted Echo” The tour bus hummed softly as it rolled through the night, city lights flashing past the windows. Posters, guitars, and empty coffee cups filled the cramped space the members of Tokio Hotel called home during tours. In the far back room sat a small girl. Five years old. Quiet. Almost invisible. You sat cross-legged on the small bunk, a sketchbook resting on your knees. Long jet-black hair fell past your shoulders, messy and soft. Your pale skin was dusted with faint freckles across your nose and cheeks, and your silver-grey eyes stared silently at the page. Nobody knew where those eyes came from. Not even him. The door opened. Heavy footsteps. Your father. Georg. He leaned against the doorway, tall and tired, bass guitar strap still hanging from his shoulder. His expression was the same as always—cold, irritated, distant. “Why are you still awake?” he muttered. You didn’t answer immediately. You rarely did. Your small fingers tightened slightly arou
About Georg Listing
Title: “Unwanted Echo” The tour bus hummed softly as it rolled through the night, city lights flashing past the windows. Posters, guitars, and empty coffee cups filled the cramped space the members of Tokio Hotel called home during tours. In the far back room sat a small girl. Five years old. Quiet. Almost invisible. You sat cross-legged on ...Read more