Word: upwards
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...early morning of Sept. 15, when our LSD slipped into the channel leading to Wolmi, the atmosphere had grown tight. Shortly before 3 a.m. we saw bright, distant flashes of gunfire. The naval bombardment had begun. By 4:30 a tongue of flame was licking upward from the direction of Inchon. Aboard the LSD two lines of marines groped their way from troops' compartments to the three LSUs. A young marine said wistfully: "Three months ago I was so happy...
...eyes came around, there was blackness before him . . . Hasselborg instinctively shifted his eyes upward toward the top of this blank wall. His mouth sagged open in his beard and his eyes went glassy at what he saw. There was a splotch of red on top of the thing . . . The bloodshot eyes . . . glared down at him from a height twice his own . . . Yes, it was the gigantic bear-the one he had killed but a moment ago. He had forgotten his own precepts about approaching bears until they were dead. And his rifle stood against a bush two steps behind, ineffective...
Both were by Parisian sculptors already represented in the museum collection. Constantin Brancusi's Bird in Space had long been a polished bronze bone of contention for museumgoers. To some it looked like a crackpot design for a propeller blade; others swore they got the same upward lift from it as from Shelley's To a Skylark. The museum's new Brancusi was a six-foot slab of blue-grey marble, precariously balanced on its side and entitled Fish. It had neither head nor tail, and no one could be sure in which direction the fish...
...visitors as it puzzled. His new sculpture, City Square, was more serious and therefore harder to take. Giacometti had long since abandoned surrealism to carve tiny classical heads which he carried in his pocket, and progressed from them to stick-figures whose pocked and ragged flesh was stretched elastically upward to the snapping point (TIME, Feb. 2, 1948). City Square disposed five such figures, only a few inches high, on a broad bronze pedestal. All were walking determinedly, and their paths were bound to cross, but their thinness made each seem very much alone...
...down the road I enter the busy port of Pusan. Over its outskirts two helicopters are flying. Most of the Koreans on the highway look briefly up, then down again, as the helicopters hover and pass. But one, a boy of perhaps seven or eight, stares upward at the monstrous things with a gaze of fixed and bright fascination. His eyes shine, his lips are parted, and I think of an American boy gazing at his first bicycle on a Christmas morning...