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Rick Lott

Winter 1988

Shooting for Shape

By Rick Lott

To beat the sun that branded our streets, we inhabited the dim pool hall whose tables spread even as village greens, and every game began with a clean break clacking […]

Winter 1988

The Man Who Loved Distance

By Rick Lott

The entire country afire with spring clearing, distant mountains loomed as shadows in the blue haze, and the fetid smoke followed me everywhere, like a beggar, slunk into the hotel […]