Bogdanka chain smokes, legs crossed, eyes narrowed, chin up in the air. A woman in black. A movie star. Torch singer, trapped in office desk land. She lights up another. Memories of the Old Country come flooding in.
I am one of many, embarking on this experiment. The idea is to write a short piece of poetic prose about 365 people I have encountered in my life, one entry per day for a year, using approximately the number of words, matching my age. I've stopped, then resumed, but I am resolved to take this to the finish line.