tryskomys



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  1. Summary

    Stone Gossard and Keeva Andrews, two parts of the same soul that wasn’t made to be split in half. Two guitars that should always twist around each other like stubborn vines.

    And yet, it feels like they’re always chasing a fading memory, the one where you’re not sure if it’s beautiful or horrid, but nonetheless, you really want to feel it.
    You stretch and reach up, strained and trying to grasp it, but it keeps slipping away. Even though you’re just a few inches away, you can never catch up.
    That’s their modus operandi. One of them is the memory and the other one is the catcher.

    Always slightly out of sync.

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