The things we admire in others are often the things we want for ourselves. Or our social media.

She is delicate with her characters. Uses capital letters sparingly, and her hashtags are never trending. Acronyms are accentuated somehow with a tone so sophisticated you would have thought she was French the way her words fell so concisely. That doesn’t even make any sense.

She checks in at the bodega on the corner of her east Hudson studio, every afternoon around 2 or 3, taking a siesta like she’s from Spain or something, but she’s not a snob because she curses sometimes and quotes Kanye and Miguel and plenty of old school hiphop godfathers, just as much as she quotes “Eat Pray Love” and Audrey Hepburn.

She’s got a sultry sexuality, her icon is her side profile in sepia, and her wallpaper is in black and white. It is a tasteful photograph of a topless woman with long hair, resting her back on the headboard of a bed as she smokes a cigarette, the wall behind it lined with rifles.

She is cool. She doesn’t tweet often. Her feed is mostly horoscopes and you can hardly believe that a woman like her needs guidance at all. She is congratulatory and conciliatory and humorously sarcastic to her friends when they need her to be, which is not too often. Her followers are few, her following fewer, but she can tell you the birthday of all 152 of them.

She is kind. She is real, though its obvious that she is very selective with her thoughts, and for that very reason you want to be just like her. She is quiet in a world full of noise, in a world growing louder and louder. She is quiet not because she is shy or secretive.

She is quiet because she has control over herself. And you want that control for yourself more than anything.

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