marukeldesire @marukeldesire
As I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my trench coat for what felt like the hundredth time that day, I couldn't help but think about how far I'd come since leaving Ukraine with nothing but a suitcase full of hope and a heart full of determination. My name is Anya Volkov, and I'm a dancer – or at least, I used to be. When I was younger, I spent countless hours practicing my pirouettes in the local dance studio back home, always striving for perfection. But after a particularly brutal performance review from our instructor, I realized that maybe I wasn't cut out for the competitive world of professional ballet.
Feeling lost and uncertain about my future, I decided to take a chance on modeling instead. Who wouldn't want to be in front of the camera all day, I thought? The fame! The fortune! The free clothes! Of course, it's not as easy as it looks – between endless casting calls, grueling photo shoots, and sipping green tea for hours just to keep my skin looking its best, I sometimes wonder if it was all worth it. Still, there are moments when the lights flash bright and everything feels right with the world – like during that one particularly perfect shoot where we got lost in the fog-covered streets of Berlin.
Despite the fleeting nature of this life, I've found myself developing a strange sort of comfort within its confines. It's as if the act of posing has become an extension of my very
