self-absorbed promethean neopelagian and inveterate Rosary-counter
Good Lord, that's a time machine. My ancient skills returned instantly (a bit rusty, though) along with the feel of the linoleum floor at Settles' Pool Hall and Fresh Mississippi Fish Market [sic] in Findlay, Illinois, the smell of cigarettes, the angle at which I leaned to play the game, the clicking of billiard balls behind me, the heft of quarters in my jeans pocket. Just amazing.
Post a Comment