My parents became friends with Jerzy Kosinski soon after I graduated college. When he visited them in suburban NJ in the summer of 1988 he slept in my childhood room, in my twin bed with the flowered bedspread, and signed the two novels of his that I had on my bookshelf. We hadn’t yet met. The asterisked note about “Passion” refers to the watercolor painting of a heart I’d titled “Passion” (oh dear) that I had pinned to my bulletin board, next to my prom corsage and varsity letter for flag twirling.
Submitted by: Sari