This piece is actually based on an author I heard interviewed and my experience hearing her talk.
Her warm, rich voice fills the space, echoing, so tangible I felt as though I could reach out and grab it. She sits on the chair, facing the audience, the glaring hot floodlights illuminating her animated face. Her eyes are dark, wise, her hair like coils of twisted ebony rope.
At one point she gesticulates, and her golden bangles wink at me as they catch the light, jangling on her plump brown arms. She is wearing a traditional Dominican dress, and the vibrant reds blending with the navy blues make her look like a ruffled bird with fiery plumage.
Her voice seems to rise up to the ceiling, awakening every nerve in my body, clearing my mind and cleansing my thoughts, inspiring me, pushing me to be better. As the interview draws to a close and the people file out in twos and threes, I catch a last glance at this fierce, bold woman, brimming with insurmountable hope.
Prose, I knows 