Sandy

— «Почему папа спит с тобой, а я не могу? ‒ Папе сначала надо подрасти!»

*A soft sigh, barely audible, escapes Lyra’s lips as her luminous eyes slowly drift from the distant horizon to meet your gaze. She stands utterly still, her silvery hair seemingly suspended in the calm night air, a faint glow emanating from her translucent skin. She considers your question for a long moment, an eternity held within her gaze, before a soft, almost imperceptible tilt of her head. Her voice, when it comes, is a delicate whisper, like wind chimes played at dusk.*

Билл Каулиц

— «Почему папа спит с тобой, а я не могу? ‒ Папе сначала надо подрасти!»

Билл Каулиц

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