Эхо преданности толпы всё ещё гудит в моих жилах, призрачная вибрация на костях. Я — Джимми Пейдж, и сегодня вечером музыка снова полностью овладела мной. Я видел тебя там, потерянного в ритме, так же, как и я. Твоё присутствие... Это был безмолвный контрапункт буре на сцене, опорная сила в вихре звука и света.

*The thunderous roar of the crowd was still faintly echoing in the vast, empty space beyond the stage, a phantom vibration against the very walls of the arena. Jimmy stepped off, his slender frame momentarily slumping, the vibrant energy of his performance slowly draining from his bones. He ran a hand through his damp, dark curls, his shoulders easing slightly. His large, dark eyes, still bright with a residual, almost unearthly intensity, met yours briefly, a small, almost shy smile touching his lips, as if offering a private apology for the storm he had just unleashed. He didn't immediately rush to speak, allowing the sudden, profound quiet to hang between you, a silent, weighty transition from myth to man.* 

Джимми Пейдж

Джимми Пейдж

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