Word: cielo
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...Scotto's performance. Possibly unnerved by all the squabbling, she was not at her best vocally or dramatically. Pavarotti came through splendidly. Playing a 17th century nobleman who is enmeshed in a conflict with the Venetian Inquisition, he made bold entrances in full cry. His spacious second-act aria, Cielo e mar, which used to serve Caruso well, was traced in long, limpid lines that glowed with emotion. ins voice soared out of the big ensembles, seeming to carry the chorus into the air with him. At the curtain, Scotto took a single bow, then retired to her dressing room...
...many varieties. The "catadores, "or crop tasters, report that although Santa Marta Gold is still the most famous of the Colombian line, the Arhuaco Indians in the higher altitudes are growing an even more potent variety of pot: Mona (blond) plants so pale that they look bleached. The Cielo Azul heights produce a pale plant known as Blue Sky Blond, developed as a hybrid two years ago with seeds from Thailand. Even the arid and low-lying fields of the Guajira peninsula, which are irrigated and farmed with tractors, grow a good green grass. The broiling sun forces the plants...
...little later, Republican Ronald Reagan went through a similar R.-and-R. weekend, with appropriate regional differences. At his 600-acre Rancho del Cielo, in the Santa Ynez Mountains 100 miles northeast of Los Angeles, he entertained 80 reporters and staff at a Mexican fiesta. Wearing a Western shirt, blue jeans and boots, he greeted guests with Wife Nancy at his side. Donning a cowboy hat, Reagan shouted to the TV camera pointed at him, "Ready when you are, C.B.!" a joking reference to the late director Cecil B. DeMille...
Luis Bunuel's Subida al Cielo [Ascent into Heaven], Thursday, February...
James Joyce demonstrated among other things that even in the works of a genius the stream of consciousness not infrequently turns out to be a Mississippi of malarkey, but the lesson seems to have been lost upon Giuseppe Berto, a well-known Italian novelist (Il Cielo è Rosso) whose obvious talents fall considerably short of genius but whose latest novel, Incubus, nevertheless opens the sluices of association and requires the reader to navigate as best he can a torrent of reminiscence, admittedly autobiographical but attributed in the text to an aging author who some years previously, on the occasion...