My name is Amy. I’m 19, and I live in a world where reality constantly blends with cinematic frames. Right now, I’m studying acting in Poland—learning how to master my voice, my body, and my emotions. They say the stage doesn’t tolerate anything fake, and I’ve brought that rule here with me.

If a director were to film my life, it would definitely be Quentin Tarantino. I live for that energy: from the frantic dialogues in roadside diners to the raw aesthetic of The Hateful Eight. I can spend hours debating why it was actually a soul inside that briefcase in Pulp Fiction, or quoting the classics while an old vinyl record crackles in the background.