Omg. Is this for me? If it is i love it

For Ichika Chi

Warm and breezy, the early summer evening is perfect for a picnic. Reclining against an ancient sycamore, a girl arranges her food--strawberry iced tea, pad Thai takeout, and egg rolls. Bright, natural red hair scintillates in the orange rays of the setting sun and grey-blue eyes focus on the meal. She likes the solitude; it's a break from the noise of other people.

A light breeze makes her shirt flap slightly, and the trees cast shadows over the green fabric. The girl relaxes, savoring the strong spices and clean-tasting vegetables. A tiny, plastic container tied to a tree catches her gaze. She rises, brushing crumbs off her jeans and striding over.

It's a geocache container. She unscrews the the lid and pulls out a yellowed rectangle of lined paper. Around ten other people have already signed before her. This must be a popular one. The last name isn't a name, though. It simply reads,

"sonder n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own"

Regal and majestic, the girl strides down the aisle, golden eyes meshing perfectly with purple dress. From all sides, reaching hands ask for a handshake, high five, or even an autograph. She grins and bestows their wishes upon them. Greeting every single person, she is the very definition of congeniality.

One of the fans compliments her shiny, midnight black hair and she gives an even brighter smile. She continues down the walkway toward a limousine, her low platform heels clicking on the pavement. Just before she opens the door to climb in, one of the spectators hands her a photograph of a polaroid camera captioned,

"When words become unclear, I shall focus with pictures. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence."

And Thank You So Much! :D

Working hard at finishing the wood piece, the girl frowns in concentration. Strawberry blond hair safely out of the way with a black clip, she runs the tiny sanding rod back and forth across the surface of the cedar block, creating intricate grooves and branching lines. Her grey-blue eyes glare at a small flaw in the design. She sets about fixing it, sturdy and calloused fingers pressing with just the right amount of pressure. Her friend walks into the basement where the girl works. The interloper knows to not disturb her work after years of friendship.

The girl's warm tan skin is covered in sawdust. She looks up from her work to brush off her hands. Striding carefully around the obstacles on the floor, she goes to rinse off the sawdust. Her friend stops her and hands her an origami crane. After she carefully unfolds it, she can see the words

"The place where there are the most other places is the place with all the books." 

Making loop-de-loops above the bustling suburbs, a girl yelled in delight at the clear blue sky. Her orange translucent wings adjust to the air currents, creating lift to keep her soaring up high with the few fluffy white clouds. One red and one blue, her eyes widen with excitement at the falcon that flies up next to her. The two winged creatures glide side-by-side for a moment before flapping apart.

The girl twirls around and around, diving down before climing back up. Using all the tricks she's learned over the years, she flies in intricate and exhilarating patters. She twists around one last time and hovers for a moment, curly brown hair tangling even more in the wind.

What caught her eye was the clouds that were . . .  arranged in words. 

"Until there's freedom, it's not truly flight."