Katisha likes to think of herself as a puzzle she has yet to solve, a breathing conundrum constructed of delicate, jewel-like layers artfully assembled and infinite in number. Each time she peels away one of these layers in order to better behold the one beneath, she gives herself a new name. In years past by use of this method, she has interwoven with her own persona that of a sharpened killing dagger, a seldom-seen and rarely mentioned species of shark, a faceless heroine from a well-known poem, and numerous reflections of deities from long-dead religions. These days she identifies most strongly with a bitter and very fictional Japanese spinster despite the fact that she is obsessively and unconditionally loved herself by at least one person. She has been, in a manner of speaking, the villainess of many people's personal stories, and as such, she has developed a rapport with the shadows that exist in the stories of others. She loves their sharp edges and dusky faces almost as much as she loves her own, and Katisha herself hopes never to become smooth and safe.

To Katisha, to be truly beautiful physically is to look as if one is not quite real. She enviously devours the images and philosophies of such beings as geisha and wishes to be as they are. She does not wish for their porcelain faces or their elaborate hairdos set in wax. She loves her own flowing hair and caramel-colored skin far too much for that. What she sees in such beings is much less tangible. She envies them their grace, and their manner. She envies them that aura which is difficult to identify completely or define in plain English, and which is positively impossible to package and sell to the masses... that aura that makes them seem as if they could not possibly be human. Katisha too wants to be appealing in this very same way, so long ago she decided that she would become so. She dyes her hair an impossible shade of crimson and paints her lips to match. She wears dark and tragic colors. She favors shoes that make her feet appear dainty and make her gait seem precarious. She makes sure she always smells of something unique, hypnotic, and intriguing. Gentle eddies scented with dark chocolate, or ginger, or opium, or datura follow her wherever she goes. Katisha is one who has art in her blood. She considers her person to be the most important and poignant of canvases, so she has painted it with care over the years, and she maintains it with pride.

Recently a wise friend taught Katisha about her stars. She'd known for many years that she possessed the ability to breath water and to propel herself through it by way of a fish's tail and fins. Now she is aware that she also possesses sharp pincers and a poisoned barb at the end of her tail, and she finds this just as fitting. Knowing such things about herself gives her a different flavor of insight into why it is that she has always been strong even during those times when she thought herself weakest of all, and it adds to the strong sense of purpose she feels that she has... the purpose she knows beyond the shadow of a doubt is rooted in her imagination and her art. Art is not only a profession and a pastime to her. It is a religion... a universal language she uses to communicate with others. She believes that by dreaming up characters and then granting them faces, names, and histories she mirrors and brings herself closer to whatever being apparently thought she was worth creating one-and-thirty years ago, and she enjoys this small measure of power and the solace it brings with it. It makes her feel as if perhaps she was not born on Earth by mistake after all.

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