San Diego's best tomato breeds: Better Boys, Early Girls, Yellow Taxis The ripe round red tomato sitting on the kitchen table is alive and busy. While we are asking, “How shall I eat it?” the …
David Rioux was a young writer from Rhode Island (and a student of Peter Griffin) who was invited by Judith Moore to write for the Reader. His stories in the print archives:
Articles by David Rioux
Blood Brothers It wasn’t long before the owner of the radiator shop discovered that Rat had been sleeping in the van. But when the man saw Rat’s beat-up face and how sick he was, he …
In time for the morning glass For a few years back in the '60s, Mike Doyle was the hottest surfer in the world. With an unusual combination of power on big waves and stylistic grace …
My thoughts drift to the squirrel woman. Where did she get those bruises? Where is she sleeping tonight? The other people. The little artist I met this morning, probably passing this night on El Cajon Boulevard.
These people have been among us for centuries. They can be found, emerging from the coal mines of a Zola novel, reaping the season’s harvest in a Millet painting, in any number of works by Van Gogh.