Word: bus
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...death-penalty cases, this story is maddening and convoluted. Davis was convicted in 1991 of a tawdry and pathetic 1989 murder. On a hot Savannah night almost exactly 20 years ago, Davis and two acquaintances were hassling a homeless man at a Burger King parking lot next to the bus station. They wanted his beer, and one of the bullies - either Davis or a fellow known as Red Coles - clubbed the victim with a handgun. As it happened, an off-duty police officer, Mark MacPhail, was providing security at the restaurant. When he came running to the scene...
...uneventful, and within two hours we touched down on a runway surrounded by guard posts and barbed wire. The tarmac was empty. From the roof of the terminal building, a huge portrait of Kim Il Sung smiled down. After passing the entrance formalities, we were loaded onto a bus with four state guides. The photographer in me was ecstatic at what I was seeing. The visual texture of North Korea is different from any country on earth. It is stark and bizarre to the point of being surreal. Pyongyang may have more monuments and wide avenues than Washington or Paris...
...time our bus arrived at a gargantuan bronze statue of the Great Leader, where we were instructed to bow, I had already begun to slip dangerously out of character. I was shooting different angles, moving my lens like a pro. The minders and other delegation members said nothing. But I should have known that I was compromising my cover...
...They were told that the jungles on the sides of the road were still littered with mines and other ordnance; red skull-and-crossbones signs drove the message home. Still, the pilgrims arrived in the tens of thousands, in vans, buses, trucks, public transport, an old British double-decker bus, some in tuk-tuks, the three-wheeler rickshaws that traverse the island. At the shrine, the faint but constant hum of prayers and hymns rose above the rustling of pilgrims' feet. Large piles of slippers, sandals and an assortment of shoes of every nature accumulated by the doors outside...
When he's not canvassing the Afghan backcountry in his beat-up Toyota mini-bus, Ramazan Bashardost, 48, arrives at his presidential campaign headquarters - a gray tent - at 5:30 each morning. It sits across the street from the Afghan parliament and is open to the public, without the gun-wielding bodyguards that surround other high-profile candidates. "My name means 'friend of humans'," he offers, by way of explanation. "I am here for everyone...