The Eyes


They weren’t exactly Bette Davis eyes, but this made me crack up.

Lithe, petite Sofia Kirichuk, wrapped in a thin leather overcoat, spotted tall, angular Vasili Folosov across the rows of pup tents and right away saw something she liked.

“It was his revolutionary eyes,” she says. Never mind that he and she were in the middle of a vast and tense political demonstration. Never mind that they were living in a tent city on a main boulevard of slushy, windy Kiev subsisting on bologna sandwiches. Love had struck.

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Erick Erickson
By Erick Erickson

Erick Erickson

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