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  • We had just left Yellowstone, heading east en route to South Dakota. We had been driving for an hour or so out of the park, when we passed through a small town. We heard the stadium before we saw it. Bright lights hot and white arose like monoliths into the black, starry void. We followed the screams of delight and pain and watched the cowboys play on their horses. Poking and prodding the bulls. Incurring their wrath. It was barbaric and exciting. We followed their hats and they asked us to play pool with them. We lost. They promised us the world, bought us breakfast, and we never saw them again, and on the third day, we continued east.
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