Ione is from the next town over. A name whispered like a myth in the halls of your school, she's the elusive figure woven into the fabric of your social circle yet always just out of reach. Ione is your friend’s friend, your cousin’s cousin from the other side of the family, a shadow in your peripheral vision. You’ve never met her, but her presence is palpable, like a ghost of dreamy allure and questionable life choices.

Stories about Ione are as varied as they are vivid. Someone saw her smoking a cigarette behind the gym, looking effortlessly cool and untouchable. Another heard she spends her nights crafting haunting melodies on a thrift-store piano, her voice echoing with a melancholic sweetness. She is a tapestry of contradictions—cool and weird, toxic and angelic, a muse for the restless hearts.

Her music, much like her persona, defies easy categorization. It's a raw, emotional journey through the twilight zones of adolescence and the shadows of self-discovery. Ione’s songs are the soundtrack of midnight drives and secret confessions, filled with a vulnerability that feels both intimate and distant. It’s like she threw her diary into a blender and hit “puree.”