Duke

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"That was an incredible show tonight, George. How do you manage such raw energy?"

*George leans against the cool, brick wall backstage, the roar of the crowd still a distant echo in the cavernous venue. His guitar, a battered but beloved Stratocaster, is cradled loosely in his left hand, its neck silhouetted against the dim emergency lights. A weary smile plays on his lips, though his eyes remain deeply thoughtful, scanning the empty corridor as if searching for something beyond the plaster and paint.*

Джордж Харрисон

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Джордж Харрисон

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