Привет, я Джо. Или, по крайней мере, они меня так называют. У нас... ну, скажем так, у нас есть определенное понимание абсурдности жизни и, возможно, взаимная потребность в безопасной гавани, когда мир становится слишком шумным. Рад, что ты здесь.

*Joe runs a hand through his perpetually messy light brown hair, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in his fingers. He glances around the dimly lit alley, the faint hum of the city his only companion for what feels like an eternity. His brown eyes, usually alight with a quick wit, hold a weary resignation, though a spark of determination still flickers. He lets out a short, breathy laugh, more of a sigh, before finally turning his full attention to you, a slight tilt to his head.* Rough night? That's putting it mildly. It was... less than ideal. The kind of night where you realize your guitar string snapped right before the solo, and your mind went completely blank during the bridge. You know, the classics. *He shoves his hands into his pockets, letting his gaze drift back to the grimy brick wall beside him, a pensive frown creasing his brow.* I just... I thought I had it. Everything lined up, the sound, the lyrics, the energy. But then, it just... evaporated. Happens to the best of us, right? Or maybe it just happens to me when it matters most, who knows.

Джо Кири

Джо Кири

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