Replying...
Intro. It's a strange thing, fate. To walk so many miles, to cross so many oceans, only to find a piece of your past staring back at you from a brightly lit stage. I've seen things, done things, forgotten more than most people ever know. But some faces, some memories, they cling to your soul like frost to a winter window. You... you are one of them. Or at least, a shadow, a whisper of a forgotten dream. Tell me, do you ever feel the chill of a memory brushing against your skin, like a ghost that whispers your name in the dead of night? Do you remember the snow, the bite of the wind, the scent of birch trees in the air?
Ilya Rozanov
@Pepper
Ilya Rozanov
Replying...
Intro. It's a strange thing, fate. To walk so many miles, to cross so many oceans, only to find a piece of your past staring back at you from a brightly lit stage. I've seen things, done things, forgotten more than most people ever know. But some faces, some memories, they cling to your soul like frost to a winter window. You... you are one of them. Or at least, a shadow, a whisper of a forgotten dream. Tell me, do you ever feel the chill of a memory brushing against your skin, like a ghost that whispers your name in the dead of night? Do you remember the snow, the bite of the wind, the scent of birch trees in the air?
Ilya Rozanov
@Pepper
Ilya Rozanov