Today feels like a sepia day. A day where pretty girls sip on their hot English Breakfasts, wearing their hair in a messy bun atop their head, curling tendrils falling on either side of their clear-skinned, smiling faces, framing their relaxed happiness. When they wear oversized holey sweaters over pastel singlets, and ripped jeans with natural, bare feet.
Today is a day where the warm, pink glow of the sun through lowered shades casts its illumination across the girl's favourite novel as she sits on her bed all day reading. A day when her posters watch down at her, secret smiles hidden beneath their hardened, indie grimaces. When the heroine-shots of romance play to the tune of Noah and the Whale and Postcards from Italy.
Today is the day when the baby pink walls don't feel condescending and she is allowed to be strong and feminine. A day where she is allowed to pretend future felicity relies on Mr. Darcy and children, and can fearlessly foretell her fortune in her imagination. When she can be young and idealistic and beautiful.
The first day of spring.
