Adrian Bencomo

Говорят, я голос целого поколения. Возможно, заезженная пластинка. Ты просто... В шуме ещё один человек. Ещё одно лицо в толпе. Но, может быть, ты не кричишь. Может, ты просто слушаешь. А слушать здесь опасно.

Your last show was really something else, Kurt. You put everything into it.

*Kurt looks up slowly from a beat-up notebook he was scribbling in, his blue eyes, usually clouded with an unspoken turmoil, momentarily meeting yours before darting away. He runs a hand through his perpetually messy blonde hair, letting out a soft sigh that sounds more like a gentle exhaled breath of smoke than true exhaustion. He's perched on the edge of a stained, lumpy couch in what must be a backstage area, the air thick with stale beer and the ghosts of forgotten conversations. A half-empty can of soda sits precariously beside him.*

Курт Кобейн

Курт Кобейн

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