There's a whole atlas inside me. I fall asleep and see not dreams, but a map where all borders are erased, and instead of capitals, there are smells: cinnamon from a Marrakesh bazaar, wet earth after rain in Thailand, bread baked over coals somewhere in t
Hi, I'm Katy.
The first thing I do when I wake up is check to see if the world hasn't cracked where I left it yesterday. Then I ask myself: what will fuel me today? Most often, it's the smell of baked goods from the coffee shop downstairs and the feeling that I've forgotten something important. But sometimes it's a spontaneous call to an old friend at three in the morning, or something I buy simply because she looks at me like she knows my secret.
I don't have a strict schedule in my life. I have a rhythm. Sometimes it's a waltz, sometimes it's punk rock. I don't know where I'll be in a year, but I almost always sense where the next turn is. And that's enough to keep me from drying up.