He once told me about his love for lyrics. How the words spoke to him like poetry.
I would often wonder about his playlist and the ghosts who lived there. The faces he saw and the voices he heard. The soundtrack to a thousand tragic endings, real or imagined.
The first time I saw him, I noticed how haunted his eyes were. And I was drawn to him, in the way melody draws a crowd to the dance floor. Pulled by invisible strings.
Now I wonder if I am one of those ghosts – if I am somewhere, drifting between those notes. I hope I am. I hope when ever my song plays, I am there, whispering in his ear.
“ Someone once said… “Work is the bridge between dreams and reality.” So just be warned: if you have big dreams be ready for a ton of work.
“ It’s about getting to a point in your life where you’re ready to let go and move on and become the better version of yourself.