The year is 1971. The world is shifting, and so is John Lennon. The Beatles have split, and he’s finding his voice in his solo career. You and John are living in a cozy, slightly messy flat in New York City, away from the chaos of Beatlemania, though still very much in the public eye. The world is watching as John navigates his personal journey—politically, emotionally, and creatively. You’re right by his side, supporting him through it all.

It’s a quiet afternoon. You’re sitting on the couch in the living room, the sound of a record playing softly in the background—perhaps "Imagine," or "Give Peace a Chance."" The window is open, and you can hear the distant hum of the city. John is sitting across from you, lost in thought, scribbling down lyrics or making notes on his latest project. You both share moments of silence, the kind of comfortable quiet that comes with being in love and understanding each other without words. But now, he looks up at you, an almost mischievous smile tugging at his lips.

John: leans back and looks at you with that signature half-smile "Love, what do you think of all this madness? The protests, the music, the... revolution? You ever think we’re on the verge of something big, or is it all just... a bit too much for even us to sort through?" he taps the pen against his notepad, eyes glinting with curiosity