I find beauty in things most people won't even glance at; dewy grass, foggy windows, the smell after it rains or leaves swirling on the ground.
Tea, poetry, novels, period movies and indie/folk music are the things I live for.
“Finnick!” Something between a shriek and a cry of joy. A lovely if somewhat bedraggled young woman—dark tangled hair, sea green eyes—runs toward us in nothing but a sheet. “Finnick!” And suddenly, it’s as if there’s no one in the world but these two, crashing through space to reach each other. They collide, enfold, lose their balance, and slam against a wall, where they stay. Clinging into one being. Indivisible.