Talya. God's Dew. Maybe a muse in disguise. She saw into the future. Had a way of gliding through life, the way a celestial being would. Everything she touched turned to poetry, and, like an apple, I craved her.
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.