Word: wind-blown
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...their capture nets around the well, local residents greeted them with gifts of bread, plates of food, coffee and a liter of some unrecognizable brand of soda. As the town folk retreated to their homes, dusk gave way to night and only the outlines of the wind-blown palm trees could be seen swaying against the starry sky of the moonless night. Amador and Iglesias, whom I had been talking to moments earlier in the dark, were suddenly snoring in their hammocks. I sat in the back of pickup truck trying not to smell like vampire bait and hoping...
Topping It Off At the fall 2008 menswear shows in Milan, the must-have accessories were hats?from nubby caps to huge fur trappers. At Burberry Prorsum, designer Christopher Bailey gave his military caps a rugged country look, while Alexander McQueen's giant fox-fur hats had a wind-blown Tibetan vibe. And Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabbana replayed their English rock-'n'-roll favorite: the 1970s-style Carnaby...
...Even in the throes of passion, Malouf's characters have a tendency to sublimate their feelings. Like Jo, who "wanted a love that would be overwhelming, that would make a wind-blown leaf of her, a runaway wheel," the acclaimed Australian writer, now 72, prefers to explore more spiritual intimacies. This is the theme of his seven new short stories, each in its own way a memento mori. In War Baby, an abandoned son wears his late father's R.A.A.F. greatcoat in preparation for fighting in Vietnam; in Elsewhere, a Blue Mountains father grieves for his lost daughter by reading...
...would still make good practice fieldwork for his Aboriginal students after a week of classes in the nearby town of Mildura. He was walking behind one of them, 26-year-old Mary Pappin Jr., when she called out that she'd seen something. What she'd spotted on the wind-blown surface looked like a footprint. "We'd all been walking over it," her mother Mary says proudly. "But that little...
...gritty surface of the city streets while anonymous figures and rushing legs swirl past him. Face rubbing against asphalt, teeth clenched, he mumbles, “I’m stuck in a city but I belong in a field.” Cut to shots of wind-blown Albert Hammond Jr., alone, twiddling his Stratocaster miserably in front of a panoramic cityscape. Drummer Fabrizio Moretti and bassist Nikolai Fraiture are overwhelmed by a horde of winter-jacketed pedestrians who stumble into them and knock up their instruments. Occasionally, one member or the other will appear to be as large...