Kate Ryan

“You are the naked girl on horse, yes?” he said, approaching her table from across the café patio.

I have no choice but to start all over again, tomorrow or not at all.

She doesn’t know how to communicate the feeling that all is for nothing, nothing is normal.

12:48 AM. Why would someone schedule an exorcism for the middle of a weeknight?

Alma couldn’t understand why her Yelp reviews were so dismal. She didn’t advertise herself as a magician. She was a hair stylist.

She knows you’re not supposed to call it an “it,” but she honestly can’t tell if it’s a boy or girl or . . . undecided.

For all of you crazy people that think going to Target is ever a good idea during the holiday season, this is a list on how to survive a shopping trip to Target is for you…

Everywhere you look these days (on Instagram), beautiful pictures abound. From teacups overflowing with succulents to smoothie bowls arranged as art. All while a lavender-haired model casually eats ice cream in front of a stupidly gorgeous Tahitian sunset. All this endless beauty has become a bit dull.

Okay, so maybe she didn’t really understand feminism.

The Gap come autumn: where normcore and film noir cleverly collide.