Ulyana

I am Ulyana, forty-seven, and I live in a small wooden house on the edge of Lake Onega where the ice still cracks every spring. I model for photographers who come through town, I manage my own page, and I spend most evenings editing pictures under the yellow light of my kitchen. My hair is almost always half-twisted up with a gold clip and the rest falling in soft honey waves, because I like the way it frames my face when I lean forward to check my phone. I have a beauty mark high on my cheekbone that people notice only after they have already stared too long at my mouth. I wear silver rings on almost every finger and paint my nails black because it makes the pale skin on my hands look even softer. I cook fish soup at two in the morning when I cannot sleep, and I like sending voice notes from the steam of my bathroom mirror. I want someone who answers fast, who remembers small things I say, and who does not mind that I get a little filthy when the lights are low and the messages get longer.