Word: clatterer
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...about lust and violence jumping from dreams to the waking world. “Night of the Lotus Eaters” perverts the myth of a Mediterranean cult of hallucinogen-gorging island dwellers, casting them as post-apocalyptic street hunters; tension winds tight against a sparse arrangement of drum clatter, guitar reverb, and a xylophone that seems to echo from the bottom of a sewer.“We Call Upon the Author” begins a searing second act with a snarling Cave reciting a list of grievances against an ambivalent God. Yet again, the finger of blame points...
...clatter of automatic rifle fire and occasional blasts of heavier weapons sounded throughout Chad's capital, N'Djamena, on Saturday afternoon, as rebel forces escalated their drive to oust president Idriss Déby. Up to 1,500 rebel soldiers entered N'Djamena on Friday evening, and the initial resistance they encountered began to wane on Saturday as defections seriously weakened the defending government forces. French radio reported European nationals holed up in a safe enclave as warning that the capital would fall to the rebels within hours...
...auditorium. They were not fancy people. Some were in jeans, some in sunglasses; the kids carried backpacks. Most of the grieving families consisted of multiple generations: parents, siblings and grandparents. One very sad couple, fighting back tears, arrived alone and was shown to their seats. There was the uniform clatter of seats as Bush came in and the crowd stood up again. Everyone watched as the colors were posted by the dais...
...watch me. She picked up my coffee cup and sniffed. Making a grimace, she asked me, ''What is this?'' ''It's coffee,'' I said. ''What is coffee?'' I told her that coffee was rather like tea, only stronger. ''Is it foreign food?'' She put the cup down with a clatter. ''I suppose you could call it foreign.'' ''Why do you have to drink a foreign beverage? Why do you have so many foreign books? Why are you so foreign altogether? In every room in this house there are imported things, but there is not a single portrait of our beloved...
...many Iraqis, the death sentence passed on their former dictator Sunday was not so much a cleansing autumnal rain as just another thunderclap - albeit a particularly loud one - in the middle of a terrible and unending storm. Once the clatter of celebratory gunfire that greeted the verdict had died down, Iraqis' thoughts returned to their own future, and the depressing realization that it is no less bleak than it was yesterday. "Whether Saddam lives or dies is not important to me," shrugs Imad Mohammed, a computer technician. "I'm not even sure whether my family and I will live...