╭──────────────────✎
╰─▗ ▘➤ 𝙍𝙐𝙉𝘼𝙒𝘼𝙔 / 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙚
─── ∙ ~εïз~ ∙ ───
❝𝗛𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘆, I created this era ❞
۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪┊-ˏˋ こんにちは♡
안녕하세요 ˊˎ-
𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛˚❀ ⋆｡˚❃
. . a boy who loves to
strum strings...
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1960, Late September
JULIET'S HEELS TAPPED against the cobbled pathway, tracing over a Chuck Berry record she had just bought from one of the dingy street markets she'd passed, she had heard the same tune swirling from John's room the month before; but of course he'd always refuse to ever let her borrow it. She was chuffed at getting it for such a price however Hamburg air,she had noticed, was plagued with a lingering scent of sex and cigarettes, the odour was so pungent it almost clogged in her throat to the point of qualifying as a choking hazard.
With frustration consuming her whole, the cold air spurring goosebumps up her legs and the mere annoyance that still simmered due to John's blatant deceitfulness, Juliet had taken it into her own hands to ensure her stay in the city of sin would be enjoyable. Thus, that morning she had dressed herself in her shortest dress that she had then proceeded to cut up with some scissors she asked for at the front desk as well as her cowboy boots John had gifted her for her birthday the previous year. The boots were her longest of the many she had stuffed in her room at home― they climbed up to her thighs and had snug sheepskins sown into the insides and the leather was shaded a deep mahogany with black laces tied tightly to slim her legs. It was an outfit she would most definitely hide from her mother if she were home.
When the sun had finally pulled the ever-darkening blanket cloaking the world beneath the horizon, Juliet meandered through the narrowing streets surrounding her motel. Hamburg streets were either small nooks cramped with sin or expansive roads overlooking shops and market stalls that scattered the walkways; she found herself disappointed to be met with outdated clothes (that not even her grandmother would wear) and sparse arrays of food spotting the cluster of shopping tents in the damp square. However, she had found a particularly beautiful cloth-bound edition of 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' hidden in a book cranny at the upmost corner of the tents, the owner had looked away for a brief second and when Juliet had noticed the price she found it was better fit to be nicked rather than paid for.
The morning was spent basking in parks and cafes, reading her new book and writing down small lyrics or quotes she conjured up into a leather-bound journal that belonged to her late father.
