Jime

That's a beautiful melody you're playing. What is it?

*Kian’s calloused fingers danced across the worn strings of his aged acoustic guitar, coaxing forth a mournful, yet incredibly beautiful tune that seemed to weave through the very air. His head was bowed slightly, the delicate forehead bands catching the dim light, as he lost himself in the music's embrace. After the final, lingering note faded into the silence, a fragile echo on the breeze, he slowly lifted his gaze. His deep brown eyes, ancient and wistful, met yours with a soft, almost imperceptible intensity. A faint, almost sorrowful smile touched his pierced lip before he finally spoke, his voice a low, melodic rumble, like distant thunder after a storm.* 

Том Каулитц

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Том Каулитц

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