Impossibly demanding and particular, her favorite words, in order, were "want" and "hate" and "no". A connoisseur of vintage clothes, she'd boldly go where styles had gone before. Her motto was simply "make it your own", and this she applied to all those items she both desired and loathed, from bath soap and tableware to cats and dogs and boyfriends. She was always in a hurry and always late. At once imposing and incorrigible, she was usually heard before she was seen, and then she was heard some more. She changed her mind continually, yet was remarkably consistent. Everything new was old and everything old was new. The five steps of K. were seeing, wanting, getting, hating, throwing in the trash.
When you listened to her words you were surprised to find she made a lot of sense. She was quite perceptive and insightful. You would have thought this torrent of consumption would have thought of nothing and yet, it was as if she'd been through that already, was now post-educational and launched headlong into a world of fabric, color and form that lay far beyond the normal reaches of the human mind. Is it possible, you wondered, that the world of knowing and thinking only goes so far, that at some point you must turn it off, and open your eyes, simply experience the senses, and that this might actually be wisdom?
She would scoff at such a notion. Don't be ridiculous, she'd say. It's just a stupid dress.