"That is the introduction," Viktoras whispered over the idle. "Now, you must write the chorus."
"She doesn’t sing anymore," Aras told Viktoras, looking at the faded silver paint. Daina apie Audin Audi himnas
One rainy Tuesday, a young man named Aras walked into the shop. He was a musician, a cellist whose hands were calloused from strings rather than wrenches. He had inherited his grandfather’s old Audi 100—a car that had seen better decades. "That is the introduction," Viktoras whispered over the idle