Kate Ryan
Bio
Kate Ryan Articles
Okay, so maybe she didn’t really understand feminism.
Read...Fresh orange juice, milk, thick slices of ham, a block of cheese, a carton of eggs—her husband kept it this way should this moment arrive.
Read...Eva, having stayed up the whole night preoccupied with death and time, planned to call in sick.
Read...Sheila applied widely and on a whim. She needed a job and she needed one fast.
Read...He died a violent death. I saw him myself, flopping between wooden blades, his head bent back strangely.
Read...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.
Read...She doesn’t know how to communicate the feeling that all is for nothing, nothing is normal.
Read...As an Uber driver, I have the privilege of talking to and eavesdropping on a sampling of L.A.’s finest, ranging from the clinically insane to the simply self-absorbed. As a writer, there is no end to the amount of inspiration my passengers provide.
Read...For the record, I didn’t mean to be born so tall. I didn’t ask for bulky shoulders or a head that doesn’t fit most hats.
Read...She couldn’t imagine the water she sat in, the water that enveloped her body, wanted to be here.
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