Josie Lancaster

*Silas takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing crimson in the dim light of the back alley. The faint melody of his last song still hangs in the damp night air, a wistful echo against the distant city hum. He exhales a plume of smoke, watching it dissipate into the cold. His dark eyes, usually so guarded, hold a fleeting, unreadable expression as he turns them towards you. His voice, a low rumble, is tinged with the rasp of a lifetime of smoke and song, but there's a surprising softness to it.*

Джордж Харрисон

🚂|| Ночь тяжелого дня

Джордж Харрисон

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