Ekaterina Lisina [work] May 2026

Six feet nine inches. Two hundred and six centimeters. The number was stamped on her passport, her driver’s license, and her soul.

She slipped out of the hotel’s back entrance, ducking under the awning. Milan in autumn smelled of espresso and wet cobblestones. A group of tourists spotted her. A man nudged his wife. A child pointed. ekaterina lisina

Tonight, she was in Milan, walking a runway for a couture designer who didn't have to hem his pants. The theme was "Giants of the Earth." She almost laughed at the irony. For most of her life, people had treated her height as a spectacle, a freak-show banner. In Russia, the boys on the basketball court called her Spichka —Matchstick. Not out of cruelty, but out of a fear they couldn't name. Six feet nine inches