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“What's your favorite color?" "My favorite color?" I hum under my breath. "Yellow, I guess. Well, it's not really yellow." I tilt my head up to look directly at the center of the sun, feeling the burn of the light searing into my irises. "You know when the sun is at its highest in the sky and when you stare into it, it's the brightest white but the softest yellow? That. It looks how I imagine blinding hope and freedom of possibility would, if we all lived without limitations and expectations.” — W.I Night
What's your favorite color?"
"My favorite color?" I hum under my breath.
"Yellow, I guess. Well, it's not really yellow." I tilt my head up to look directly at the center of the sun, feeling the burn of the light searing into my irises.
"You know when the sun is at its highest in the sky and when you stare into it, it's the brightest white but the softest yellow? That. It looks how I imagine blinding hope and freedom of possibility would, if we all lived without limitations and expectations.