vieverdeen:

At a few minutes before four, Peeta turns to me again. “Your favorite colour … it’s green?” “That’s right.” Then I think of something to add. “And yours is orange.”“Orange?” He seems unconvinced.” Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset,” I say. “At least, that’s what you told me once.” “Oh.” He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. “Thank you.” But more words tumble out. “You’re a painter. You’re a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.“ Then I dive into my tent before I do something stupid like cry.

lightsglisten:

“I’m a songwriter so I’ve had the same exact formula every single time I feel something, I go to my bedroom and lock the door and write a song about it. People will say that you expressing your feelings in an honest way is over-sharing and I think that’s what I fight daily as a songwriter.