Word: autumns
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...just two miles west of Harvard Square, Mt. Auburn Cemetery claims on its website that it is “one of the most beautiful and historic landscapes in America.” A walk along silent Indian Ridge Path, surrounded by the dappled reds and yellows of its autumn trees and the stately mausoleums of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Henry Cabot Lodge, confirms their lofty statement. Sitting on 175 acres of rolling hills, the cemetery was founded in 1831 by wealthy Bostonians who sought a tranquil resting-place for the dead, and a vibrant park-ground for the, well...
...order? What should we call Hungary, '56? Was it an uprising or merely a change of government; a rejection of communism, or an attempt to give it a human face? Erich Lessing, whose remarkable photographs taken for Life magazine laid bare the drama, daring and horror of those autumn days 50 years ago, has no doubt what he saw. "This was not just a little uprising, like in Poland or in East Germany in 1953," he said last week, "this was a real revolution. There was no consultation; it just jumped up here and there." Despairing at the brutality...
Through the chilled autumn air, a shrill, quasi-melodic screech pierces the rumbling din of cars, buses, and intermingled conversations that form the acoustic character of Harvard Square. The sound emanates from the two-stringed jinghu, a Chinese opera fiddle, played by Zhi Z. Zhou, who is in his early 60s. Sitting on a cold concrete planter outside the Harvard Coop, Zhou is sporting bleach-white K-Swiss sneakers, blue jeans, a crisp white button-up shirt, and a blue fall jacket. While playing, Zhou stares transfixed at his jinghu, only breaking his concentration to go to the bathroom...
...really cannot believe this has happened. I suddenly thought of an article written on the death of J. F. Kennedy Jr, “the first nip of autumn is touching the leaves. And so we remember: sunshine, grace and promise are but temporary gifts.” I hope we can all cherish our friends and the present, and live our lives to the fullest...
...talk to a girl in line at the canteen, I.J.T. members will tell me to get my food and get out," says Rehan Iqbal, 25, an M.B.A. student, who is sitting on the floor of a hallway with female classmate Malka Ikran, 22. It's a nice autumn day, and a shady green lawn beckons through an open window, but they dare not sit outside. It's too public. "There are certain places where I know I can't talk to my male friends," says Ikran. When asked what would happen if she talked to a boy at the library...