Woman goes to bar. People working, people being served. Night, day, coffee, booze. Being desired, being free.

Will it add up to anything besides a series of moments, beamed into the memory as though by satellite, from nowhere?

It must be an interesting place, this nowhere of the memory.

Excerpts from an ongoing series—prose? poems? fiction? fact?—in which physical object and memory are footnotes to each other. Each ephemeral, about to burn.

Click through to read a sentence from each.