Kim From the Heart:
On Health Struggles, Happiness, and
Everything In Between
Sekhmet, in Egyptian mythology, was the goddess of war, of the hot desert sun, of chaos and pestilence and its opposite, healing. Terrifying to her enemies, promising righteous retribution to her friends—especially the pharaohs—Sekhmet kept the ancient world’s generative and destructive forces in balance.
“She’s me on a good day,” Kim says. Her phone sits open on the kitchen table, and an illustration of Sekhmet, fangs and nails bared and dragging a bloody axe, serves as its home screen. She moved into this apartment, a vast downtown Manhattan sanctuary whose giant windows give onto layers of skyscrapers to the north, early last year. It was a splurge of a rental, she admits. A week after she arrived, she was burning sage to rid the space of any lingering negative energy, and the fire alarm went off. “My neighbors were like, You’re burning the building down already? I was like, I’m just sage-ing!” To the west, the Hudson River gives off a languorous midday sparkle. A beach bum at heart, Kim felt she needed to see at least a sliver of water. “You always look up and you’re like, if only I lived in that apartment I’d be happy. That’s how I felt about this apartment. Does that mean I didn’t cry this morning before you got here?”
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