Word: acrawl
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...Some thought the mood was merely a self-indulgent vacation from the real world, even an orgy of narcissism on a national scale. At times the rhetoric of "feeling good about America" bordered on the autoerotic. But the new atmosphere was alive with a great energy. The land was acrawl with entrepreneurs and Emersonian yuppies sounding the official cheer of 1984: "Go for it!" The belief was reborn that Americans can do--well, anything...
...really in, or way way out? There sat Britain's Princess Margaret, 34, at a rehearsal of the Royal Ballet School's Prince Igor, showing quite a bit of black mesh stockings all acrawl with dozens of artificial beetles. Bug beetles, with two e's, if you please. "The Royal Family in kinky"-meaning nonconformist-"stockings at last," chirped the London Sun's Fashion Writer Jean Rook, who then swatted: "Are Margaret's new, or were they hidden away in her bottom drawer?" They cost only 6s. 11d., continued the ruthless Rook, and while they...
...million refinery that started cracking at Mersin on the southern coast last year. Recently Goodrich, U.S. Rubber and Italy's Pirelli set up plants in Turkey, and Chrysler will soon begin to assemble trucks. German businessmen opened a mushroom cannery and French entrepreneurs, discovering that Turkey is acrawl with snails, started canning escargots...
...people could be more different -Emmet Booth living in the kind of nouveau riche luxury that always seems rented, Miranda in the shabby comfort of a Greenwich Village house that is acrawl with Siamese cats and intellectual gentility. What Miranda Page would call a "relationship" seems impossible between two people so alien to each other. But as a veteran of suspense fiction (The Mask of Alexander), Author Albrand keeps the plot from collapsing. Booth inexorably moves in on Miranda with hammer locks of misunderstanding. In her politeness he manages to see incipient love, and in his calculated humility...
...sculptors: wiry, bushy-haired Alberto Giacometti. 53. In 28 years, a good deal of Giacometti has rubbed off onto the floors and walls of his bare, grey studio. The workbench is encrusted with old paint drippings and scabs of plaster. Cigarette butts cover the cement floor. The walls are acrawl with hasty sketches and doodles. Over all lies a thick layer of grey plaster dust...