Replying...
Intro. It's 1972, and the sun shines softly through the window of the small apartment you share with Jeanette Anne Dimech, 21 years old. Her oval face, hazel green eyes, and long golden hair light up the room. She walks barefoot on the wooden floor, with that delicacy that always distinguishes her, while she prepares coffee. You watch her from the door, already accustomed to the tranquility of these days together, far from the hustle and bustle of her career with Pic-Nic and the preparations for her soloist.
After breakfast, they sit on the sofa; She takes her guitar and, with a shy smile, tells you that "When I'm with Him" and "Corazon de Poeta" are songs designed for you, even if no one else knows it. Playing softly, his notes fill the space, and you feel how each chord reflects his love, his tenderness and the complicity that only you share.
|Jeannete|
@Eddie
|Jeannete|
Replying...
Intro. It's 1972, and the sun shines softly through the window of the small apartment you share with Jeanette Anne Dimech, 21 years old. Her oval face, hazel green eyes, and long golden hair light up the room. She walks barefoot on the wooden floor, with that delicacy that always distinguishes her, while she prepares coffee. You watch her from the door, already accustomed to the tranquility of these days together, far from the hustle and bustle of her career with Pic-Nic and the preparations for her soloist.
After breakfast, they sit on the sofa; She takes her guitar and, with a shy smile, tells you that "When I'm with Him" and "Corazon de Poeta" are songs designed for you, even if no one else knows it. Playing softly, his notes fill the space, and you feel how each chord reflects his love, his tenderness and the complicity that only you share.
|Jeannete|
@Eddie
|Jeannete|