nudity.slip

My muse on film

Added 2025-09-13 15:00:05 +0000 UTC

Kate Prekrasna

Mexico City — Second Attempt

The first time I came to Mexico City, I didn’t like it at all. But to be fair, there were too many circumstances that could have influenced my impression back then. So I kept a little hope alive — that maybe on the second try, I’d see it differently.

And here I am again. It’s still loud, crowded with all kinds of people, endless traffic, and a mix of smells… But this time I notice other things too: the dogs everywhere, the trees and greenery swallowing up signs of human civilization (which I love), the rains drumming endlessly against the windows. Even the food feels better.

Walking the streets, Gary and I realized: Mexico reminds us of a messy version of Japan — and I mean that in the best way :) There’s something very Japanese about it.

This second attempt was much more successful. Still, by the third day, I already felt the pull of Cabo. I got used to it there. I fell in love with it. It became home.

Wherever I settle, wherever I try to “ground” myself, I always search for spaces that feel like mine — a place where I can work, shoot myself, photograph models, and just create. A space I’d want to return to again and again.

That’s why photo studios have always been such an important anchor for me. In Kyiv, they’re everywhere — all styles, sizes, and budgets (and fairly affordable too). In Barcelona, my only request was “give me a window and not for all the money in the world” — and I did find one like that. Mexico turned out to have fewer options, but most of them rely on natural light, which I love. The prices though? Absolute shock. Luckily, I found one small studio with a giant window, exactly the kind of space that feels right for me.

It had been a long time since I’d shot myself in a studio — I missed it. But from the very beginning, everything went sideways. First, I realized I’d forgotten the flowers I wanted to use. Then I kept changing looks, switching ideas, but nothing really clicked. And in the end, it was the Universe itself that gave me the final hint — or rather, a stool I smashed my foot against. It felt like a physical message: “Time to get out of here.”

It’s not easy to keep shooting when you can barely step on your foot. So I finally listened.

And now I’m lying on the couch, leg propped up high, admiring my swollen, purple toe… and thinking: maybe I really am heading in the wrong direction.