I really like to look like a history book. I can look the 1940s, I can look 1970s hippie-chic, or sometimes I’ll pull that ’80s Brooklyn hip-hop kid with the door-knocker earrings.
I say what I think. I’m a real person, not some manufactured pop tart who’s afraid to step out of the hotel room. I am flawed. I swear I have the occasional cocktail, I pick my nose and I fart. I’m not running for any presidential campaign at the moment. I’m a sassy girl.
The past is like a handful of dust. It filters through your fingers, disappearing little by little. I wish, for one day, I could go back. In another life, I would do things differently.
I’m going to let love lead the way, always. And I was born with this blind-blind ambition, and it’s kind of gotten me here to this point. And I think that I’ll stick to it.
