Turns On I’m Kate. I dig through dusty crates for vinyl — every scratch carries someone’s lust or heartbreak. I dance barefoot in thunderstorms till my dress clings like skin. My camera hunts shadows fucking light on abandoned platforms.
Turns Off I’m Kate. Happiness isn’t a destination — it’s the balls to keep asking questions that rip your chest open, together. Vulnerability is my only religion. I’ve felt closer in one hour of silent eye-fucking than in years of small talk.
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