The Seam is at its most beautiful at dawn. The peach pink sunrise, the small fluffy clouds and the beaming canary yellow sun. It is a tradition for me to get up at dawn, because today is reaping day, unlike any other day of the year. It also happens to be my first reaping, and my name will be entered five times. I try to shut the reaping out of my mind, shut out these games altogether, but there is a stinging reality no one can overcome. But I must remember I am one of the lucky ones. I am the youngest of four children, all of whom are of reaping age, as compared to a boy in my class who is the oldest of seven in a fatherless family. My own perished years ago in a mining accident, which happens so frequently, its not uncommon any more. For a while, our family withdrew from society, wept buckets and could barely compose a sentence to one another, knowing we were an incomplete family, but my family are not ones to mope. And I am lucky that my family is not the common scrawny bag of bones that infest the Seam, but are good, strong, willing workers and if you give them a knife and one of the weaker tributes, they could make short work of it. But I must remember above all, this is the Capitol we are dealing with. The two words associated almost eternally with these games are: Never forget.