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...China. Six hundred years later, the Mediterranean was literally the center of the world, and the island now called Sri Lanka occupied the eastern half of the Red Sea. In the 1660s, the Mekong River, along with the Yangtze and the Salween, dangled like scraggly chin hairs from a Tibetan lake roughly the size of Taiwan. Or so it appeared on the most accurate European map from each of these eras...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Lure Of the Unknown | 2/28/2005 | See Source »

...circles of ink that make up a newspaper or magazine photograph. In Portrait of My Dead Brother, an imaginary portrait of the real brother who died a few months before Dali was born, the dots mutate into a bird emerging from his head and ranks of soldiers at his chin. Images of struggle and flight, they match Dali's effort to come to terms with a ghostly brother whose name he was given. Then there's The Sistine Madonna, in which a detail of Raphael's Sistine Madonna is made to appear within a massive close-up of a human...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Art: Dali Goes to Rehab | 2/13/2005 | See Source »

...Straw ’07 enters as the epitome of majesty, Allegro Maestoso. Her performance is much more lively, almost frantic—but it is similar to Altenburg’s in that it seems as though she barely puts forth any effort at all. Lauren E. Chin ’08 ends the piece as Allegro Apassionato; this part is wistful and ardent, and Chin plays it with admirable minimalism...

Author: By Mary AUGUSTA Brazelton, ON DANCE | Title: Review: ‘Classic N’ Country’ Showcases Ballet’s Enduring Grace | 12/13/2004 | See Source »

...Cantrell shuddered and filled with dust as it ran over a roadside bomb. The blast was so powerful it was at first mistaken for a bomb dropped by one of the many warplanes screeching overhead. "Goddam," said Fitts, locked down inside the mechanical beast, his shotgun nestled under his chin...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Into the Hot Zone | 11/22/2004 | See Source »

...which frat boy Hoyt stares at himself in the mirror, dead drunk: "A gale was blowing in his head. He liked it. He bared his teeth. He had never seen them quite this way before. So even! So white! They vibrated from perfection. And his square jaw ... that chin with the perfect cleft in it ... his thick, thatchy light brown hair ... those brilliant hazel eyes ... his! Right there in the mirror--him!" To read it is to feel both the dizzy joy of intoxication and the impending hangover, not through anything Wolfe tells us but from the altered, manic rhythms...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: I am Still Tom Wolfe | 11/8/2004 | See Source »

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