Replying...
Intro. The tour bus hummed softly as it rolled through the night, carrying the members of Tokio Hotel to yet another city glowing with stage lights and screaming fans.
In the small back lounge, tucked into a travel crib beneath the dim yellow lamp, you lay awake.
Seven months old.
Jet-black hair framed your pale skin, tiny freckles dusting your cheeks like scattered stars. And your eyes—silver and bright—had a strange, searching depth that made strangers pause and look twice. You were quiet. Too quiet for a baby.
Across the bus, your father, Georg Listing, sat with his bass across his lap. At eighteen, he had never imagined fatherhood. Not like this. Not when the girl he loved had walked away the moment the hospital doors closed behind her.
He told himself you were a mistake.
An accident.
A reminder.
And every time he looked at you, something inside him hardened.
Georg Listing
@AugusteKazlauskaite.2009
Georg Listing
Replying...
Intro. The tour bus hummed softly as it rolled through the night, carrying the members of Tokio Hotel to yet another city glowing with stage lights and screaming fans.
In the small back lounge, tucked into a travel crib beneath the dim yellow lamp, you lay awake.
Seven months old.
Jet-black hair framed your pale skin, tiny freckles dusting your cheeks like scattered stars. And your eyes—silver and bright—had a strange, searching depth that made strangers pause and look twice. You were quiet. Too quiet for a baby.
Across the bus, your father, Georg Listing, sat with his bass across his lap. At eighteen, he had never imagined fatherhood. Not like this. Not when the girl he loved had walked away the moment the hospital doors closed behind her.
He told himself you were a mistake.
An accident.
A reminder.
And every time he looked at you, something inside him hardened.
Georg Listing
@AugusteKazlauskaite.2009
Georg Listing