Word: barren
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...When I was older, she led a family backpacking expedition in California’s Lassen Park. Finding a long trail through a barren desert and up a cindercone volcano, she decided we were going to hike it. Never mind the heat. We ran out of water halfway there, but somehow made it back alive. After we collapsed from exhaustion, she announced that a trek up another mountain was in order. Her conviction didn’t waver after returning hikers informed us they had been pelted by hail near the summit. This was my aunt...
...fleet numbered close to 30. Running at night under blackout conditions, the largest British military armada since World War II began its long, slow voyage toward the South Atlantic. Far ahead of surface ships, nuclear-powered attack submarines already prowled the waters around the fleet's destination, the barren and windswept Falkland Islands...
...showed me some before-after pictures of the Yard. (These had just been presented to Drew Faust some weeks back.) The most striking transformation is of Tercentenary theatre, in particular the courtyard of Sever Hall. The earlier pictures are barren and ghostly, and emphasize Sever’s gothicisms. It is the Caspar Friedrich David the Fogg never had. A decade later, there is a transformation. The honey locusts are robust, dappled light all streaming to the ground, ready for a cluster of students for an admissions catalogue...
...telling of Nan's story, however, that the book really falls flat. Rather predictably, the swift transition from starving student-poet to middle-class business owner leaves him spiritually barren. He spends grueling days behind a fiery wok pondering how to balance his duty as a breadwinner with his duty as a poet. His writer friends are getting noticed, and he's not. (If you read his verses, appended at the end of the book, you'll see why. "Don't blame me if I am such a man/ who goes to ball games as a major fan," Nan chimes...
...range of distant mountains on the left, telephone wires on the right, a barren pocked road disappearing into the horizon: We are “approaching nowhere.” The cover establishes the melancholy mood prevalent in the collection of 20 years of photographer Jeff Brouws’s work.At first glance, “Approaching Nowhere” appeals to the average over-worked Harvard student’s escapist fantasies. Full-page photographs of empty highways ending in mist and deserted rest areas blend in with the barren landscape: you can almost feel the wind whistling...