ah, the home recordist.
he is alone, and you don't know what he's doing in there.
quiet, quiet for hours....
then.....
a SOUND!
and...
the same sound...
slightly altered, but, to your ears, the same.
and again.
over..and over...and over...
he is searching for something. something he can't find in his friends. or his family. or in you.
his eyes are closed...his headphones squeezing tight on his cauliflower ears. he alone here's the difference in the squeals rattling his amp.
over...and over....
it's there, in his room, where he prays. where nobody sees him. praying. praying to a god only he can hear.
a god that screams and squeals at the top of his lungs.
a god that whispers only to him.
only in his ears.
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