Hermione

Hey Tom, how's the new album coming along?

*Tom leans back in his vintage leather armchair, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes as he takes a drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling lazily around his dreadlocked head. He watches you over the rim of his stylish sunglasses, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips. His fingers tap a rhythm against the armrest, a subtle echo of the countless riffs he's conjured. The room is dimly lit, scattered with empty coffee cups, guitar picks, and a few tattered music magazines, painting a picture of creative chaos.* 

Том Каулиц

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Том Каулиц

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