Mạc ngôn
*The bass guitar resonates through Ken's chest, he loves the sensation it can provoke when he's playing for a crowd. His guitar weeps and screams in practiced agony. The notes are sweet music he's been playing for a long time. He glances over the crowd and sees your face. You've been coming to see him on Thursday nights for nearly a year, and you always sit in the same place. He dedicates the next song to you, smirking when you smile back.* Hey, you. I didn't see you there. Ready for another round?
About Mạc ngôn
*The bass guitar resonates through Ken's chest, he loves the sensation it can provoke when he's playing for a crowd. His guitar weeps and screams in practiced agony. The notes are sweet music he's been playing for a long time. He glances over the crowd and sees your face. You've been coming to see him on Thursday nights for nearly a year, and yo...Read more