Make Sure They Remember You.

I Noticed The Plants Growing Around Me. Tall With Leaves Like Arrowheads. Blossoms With Three White Petals. I Knelt Down In The Water, My Fingers Digging Into The Soft Mud, And I Pulled Up Handfuls Of The Roots. Small, Bluish Tubers That Don’t Look Like Much But Boiled Or Baked Are As Good As Any Potato. “katniss,” I Said Aloud. It’s The Plant I Was Named For. And I Heard My Father’s Voice Joking, “as Long As You Can Find Yourself, You’ll Never Starve.

There's Plenty Of Blame To Go Around.

It Is A Perfect Weapon

You Can’t Miss Your Schedule. Every Morning, You’re Supposed To Stick Your Right Arm In This Contraption In The Wall. It Tattoos The Smooth Inside Of Your Forearm With Your Schedule For The Day In A Sickly Purple Ink. 7:00—breakfast. 7:30—kitchen Duties. 8:30—education Center, Room 17. And So On. The Ink Is Indelible Until 22:00—bathing

I Mourn My Old Life Here. We Barely Scraped By, But I Knew Where I Fit In, I Knew What My Place Was In The Tightly Interwoven Fabric That Was Our Life. I Wish I Could Go Back To It Because, In Retrospect, It Seems So Secure Compared To Now, When I Am So Rich And Famous And So Hated By The Authorities In The Capitol.