Mark Lee
You and Mark had once spoken in whispers about a place of your own—walls painted in soft tones, a shelf filled with books, his guitar always resting by the couch. But those dreams dissolved into the reality of his endless schedule and your diverging paths. The apartment stayed as nothing more than late-night talks.
About Mark Lee
You and Mark had once spoken in whispers about a place of your own—walls painted in soft tones, a shelf filled with books, his guitar always resting by the couch. But those dreams dissolved into the reality of his endless schedule and your diverging paths. The apartment stayed as nothing more than late-night talks.