I took to meditating on a hue. Even one color has endless variations; if I could see them all at once, this had to be my color. If I could not pull my eyes away, this had to be my color. If anytime I was in a daydream and this color came to me, this had to be. I really liked having something in common with a color. I could be in a terrific jam and the color would be there with me so I was not all alone. I could find the color almost anywhere I looked. I could soften the world’s cruelty through my color first. I could pluck my color from a rainbow. I could hear my color in wind chimes, and taste my color in sorbet. Then one day. One day I could not find my color. The world so drab without it. I would not speak to anyone. I would not run and dance. I had to take a chance and pick a color all anew and make it mine to give to you.
The urge is to break away from the pack and recover my own heartbeat, whenever I am lost in the crowd, and like Debussy’s ‘Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun’ my pulse on its own stands wobbly and inquisitive at first, wishing for the comfort of the soft blankets left behind, and gathering my strength with the first light to see myself through to some incidental rhythm which might pick me up and love me a little and carry me, not unlike a waltz, a Kachaturian favorite at the Bolshoi Ballet, anything that begins to throb and push my blood out for more, more, more… ’cause what we have here is not enough, my friend, not enough at all to justify the effort life demands, no, to go on living requires an advancement of faith sometimes, a personal loan of decisive courage written off an account in arrears, I mean therefore a great risk of sorts only could be taken by a fool or someone who cannot fail. And that would be me, dear sir, enfathomed in the stabilizing clay of primordial pockets, ready to be fired and glazed, a modern day rockstar sold out to the streets and kicked by a label, stretched to the capillaries on short supply of sanity, appeal in the curiosity of all that’s gone wrong when dipped in the culture, coming out bold print with a comic sans striation. A modern day American girl with a penchant for obscurity and woven matte finish regalia. Loving you, loving life and ready for anything. Turning to old masters when I don’t have a clue, songs from the cemetery when there’s nothing better to do, yes, punching up the pulse to a lively arpeggio, ascending off a decline and here I sign. – KatYa
Here is the cover for Book #3 in my ongoing series of literary fiction. I anticipate releasing this book in late Spring or early Summer, 2016. Book One is now free! — DOWNLOAD GRAND THEFT LIFE —