priscilla lee has never felt like she belonged anywhere, and recently, since the move to seoul to fulfill lifelong dreams of becoming a dancer, all she feels is as though she's a lonely, sad girl in a foreign place with foreign feelings.

she lost herself in monsters and mayhem and dangerously winding roads that lead to almost empty beaches where one can kick at beer bottles and stare out into the endless oblivion of the black ocean outside incheon; the lipstick is pink, the flowers are yellow, and her roots are not roots anymore, they're a line where the real her starts and where the real her ends. her hair is longer by the time she finds something in a boy who found her lost sock, a rejected cinderella story, long enough to curl around the nape of her neck. until solstice and how achingly beautiful the world actually is are both discovered, it's a tale of finding yourself in others and surviving through begrudging phases of "things are pointless" and "i'm always wondering where things went wrong."