"I can't play it anymore," Silas said, his fingers gnarled like oak roots. "And it’s a loud bird. It doesn’t like sitting still."
Leo took it home, and that night, he understood. When he practiced scales, the pegs would slip and groan. But when he closed his eyes and let his fingers wander into a funky, soulful groove, the wood seemed to warm up against his ribs. The bass didn't just follow his lead—it pushed him, demanding more rhythm, more grit, more life. buy bass guitar
Leo found the ad on a Tuesday: