the poor mad girl's sister

Astrid Bergès-Frisbey by Hanna Moon

When you’re a young actor, there’s this pressure to rush. But I hope to be doing this into my sixties and seventies, so I’d prefer to take my time. There’s so much of a desire in the entertainment industry for newness, a desire to build somebody up and then treat them as old news within six months. I think you’d be naive if you didn’t try to hold on to your own way of doing things.

Sam Claflin for Elle USA | November 2015

Right now she was lid opposite her sister on Ivory’s bed, her bare feet up beside Ivory’s head and vice versa, fingers twisting around her wedding ring. All things considered, since Finnick left, she had been doing pretty well. The nights were the hardest, she hated sleeping alone with all the nightmares and most nights she padded across the hall and crawled in with Ivory, but in the day time she was okay. She whispered to her belly when she was alone and twisted her wedding ring over and over, usually lost in some daze of happiness because she was just that excited over what was to come. “What?” She asked, tipping her head to look at her younger half. “What’s that look?”

Annie took her by surprise when she spoke up and she blushed a little. She hadn't meant to be staring at her sister so hard or even with a look when she was deep in thought but apparently she did. She let out a small chuckle before meeting her sisters eyes. "It's nothing." She said, giving her a small smile. She had accepted that Annie was going to tell her when she was ready and she was going to stick to that.

I still remember those crashing waves and pink sunsets like they were yesterday’s landscapes. November 2011.