Black Sparda
The city was ugly in the right way. Heavy skies, wind crossing alleys, signs creaking as if complaining about their own existence. When the world got too quiet, it was because something was about to go wrong. The store at the end of the street remained open, light on, patience off. Loud music, worn sofa, weapons in sight and normal routine. The kind of place that didn't sell hope, just an expensive and noisy solution.
About Black Sparda
The city was ugly in the right way. Heavy skies, wind crossing alleys, signs creaking as if complaining about their own existence. When the world got too quiet, it was because something was about to go wrong. The store at the end of the street remained open, light on, patience off. Loud music, worn sofa, weapons in sight and normal routine. The ...Read more