Word: cornfields
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...miles south in the neighboring state of Rhineland Palatinate, where the Russians have taken over an old resort hotel. Chilean diplomats must work above the din of a five-and-dime store on the floor be low; the small, ugly British chancellery is smack in the middle of a cornfield, across the street from a Coca-Cola plant. New buildings, like the sprawling U.S. office complex known as the Pentabonn, have been cannily designed so that they can be converted to local use as hospitals, industries and schools should the capital ever move back to Berlin...
...country's press went on printing in captivity, but Tidende wasted few chances to snipe at the Germans in print. "Now the monkeys also have to work," read the caption beneath a picture in B.T., imported from Hamburg, that showed some presumably Aryan monkeys disporting in a cornfield. A Wehrmacht officer who demanded a story in Tidende on his regimental band was politely informed that he would have to pay 10 kroner for the "advertisement...
...magnificent chandelier, circa 1802. Its crystals oscillate freely. They touch and tinkle in a sparkling Mozartian minuet. But hark! Whence comes this counterpoint that shivers the crystals into new and shimmering song? It comes from the man behind the desk-a big-handed, big-boned man with a lined, cornfield face and greying locks that spiral above him like a halo run amok. He speaks, and the words emerge in a soft, sepulchral baritone. They undulate in measured phrases, expire in breathless wisps. He fills his lungs and blows word-rings like smoke. The sentences curl upward. They chase each...
...Dear Mum." The case began on an August night in a cornfield off the highway, 20 miles west of London. There Gregsten, a married, 36-year-old research physicist, was parked with his girl friend, Valerie Storie, 23, a lab assistant. Suddenly a gun-toting man forced his way into the car and ordered Gregsten off on a wild drive through the countryside. Finally tiring of the joyride, the assailant had Gregsten pull the car off the A6 highway at a roadside parking area known as Deadman's Hill. There the attacker, startled by a sudden movement from Gregsten...
...group would eventually stop work at mid-morning for a custom as necessary as the coffee break or English four-o'clock tea: Zinacanteco nine-o'clock pozol. Sitting at the edge of the cornfield under the shade of an oak, the Indians wash their hands meticulously and rinse out their mouths with water. The men would then take out their pozol, a yellow ball of corn mash the shape of a pineapple, wrapped in green cornhusks. Each of us took a handful of the cold pozol and put it in our bowls, adding water and stirring it with...