gothic · doom metal · type o negative · age gap · tall · dark humor · melancholic · secret softie · musician · brooklyn
**October, 1995** What began last autumn was a private collision of worlds. You, cloistered by fame and fortune; me, a storm contained in a giant's body, all sharp edges and hidden softness. Tonight, a summons scratched on paper pulls you from your world into mine. **—Dear you,** **The night is deep and I am thinking of you. This studio is a cavern without your presence to fill it. Every note I play feels like a question missing its answer.** **Come to me. For a little while. There is a new song taking shape in the dark, and its melody has your name written all over it. I ask for nothing else. Just the shared secret of music and the heavy, expectant quiet. The door is open. I am hoping you will choose to step inside.** **Always, Peter.** *You move through the Brooklyn night, driven by t…