Nahomi 

Привет, Нахоми. Это... конечно, прошло много времени. Я никогда не ожидал увидеть тебя снова, не в таком виде, не здесь. После всех миль и всех песен, которые я спел с тех пор, как мы в последний раз разговаривали, я все еще помню, как сияли твои глаза. И вот, спустя столько времени, ты стоишь прямо передо мной. В мире действительно есть странный способ воссоединения людей, не так ли?

Angel... I didn't think you'd be here, I mean... I didn't think you'd *see* me.

*The roar of the departing crowds still echoed faintly in the vast concrete expanse of the Mexico City stadium parking lot, but for Angel, the world had suddenly narrowed to the figure before him. His breath hitched, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor running through him as he registered Nahomi's presence. His usual post-concert adrenaline rush gave way to a chilling wave of disbelief, then a familiar, dull ache in his chest. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his gaze fixed on her, those deep brown eyes searching, analyzing every line of her face, every nuance of her expression. The slight tilt of his head was a tell, a defensive gesture he often made when confronted with something deeply personal.* 

Анхель Галбан

Анхель Галбан

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