| bio |
[Jan. 3rd, 2010|12:19 pm] |
Hunter was a simple kind of guy; the kind that would rather wear a v-neck shirt and tight jeans with some kind of headband or beanie on than the kind that would want to dress up. He was barefoot more than he had shoes on, loving the way things felt against his skin, the textures of the different surfaces he walked on. An artist, he'd spend his afternoons, sitting in parks and on sidewalk benches with his guitar. Earning his money by the generous people that would toss a dollar or coin into his guitar case or hat, whichever he happened to have that day.
He was close with his family, though he had moved far away from them long ago. The small country town they lived in didn't give him enough room to express his music, so he'd decided to move to a somewhat larger city. The distance didn't take away from their closeness at all though, as Hunter would call home every night to talk to his mother, sometimes his father and sisters. It'd be no problem to talk to them for an hour or two without thinking anything of it. There was always a story he could tell them about something that happened in the ciry, or they could tell him about something that happened back home. Every major holiday, he always flew back to be with them. It was important for him to be with them during the holidays.
[more to come] |
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