Word: corridored
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...Actually, there's a bit in Darjeeling - it lasts just a minute or so - that shows what Anderson is capable of. The camera tracks down a corridor of train compartments; in each is a different character, glimpsed for just a few seconds. The Sikh trainman, the hostess, Peter's wife, Jack's Paris assignation... and Bill Murray, as a businessman seen briefly at the film's opening. It's a gracefully composed series of snapshots into the lives of Darjeeling's subsidiary characters, and it made me yearn to dip more fully into their stories. I wanted...
...stairs reached upwards through the darkness of the castle. Their angle of ascent, more appropriate to a ladder than a staircase, forced me to clutch the sides as I groped along in a decidedly unroyal manner. Two stories above, I emerged from the false dusk into an open-air corridor lined with plants potted in a variety of old tin cans. Our guide motioned us to wait while he checked if the king would...
...teachers are late for school again. It happens almost every morning at Ban Bukoh village in Thailand's troubled Pattani province, but the kids are getting used to it. The girls busy themselves by sweeping the corridor outside the government school's single row of tiny classrooms. The boys crib last-minute homework from each other. Then the men with guns arrive-six of them in a pickup truck, two more on a motorbike, all toting M-16 assault rifles. It is the job of these government militiamen to protect two cars and five motorbikes carrying a dozen teachers. Their...
...back to the gate, having lost Aman in the sea of panicking black robes. More explosions, more tear gas. And the gunshots begin. First from the mosque, then in retaliation from the rangers. We are caught in a narrow corridor, bullets slicing through the thick smoke on either side of us. Another canister of tear gas rolls past my feet, spewing cottony clouds that claw at my eyes and tear at my lungs. My sweat, picking up gas particles clinging to my clothes, burns my skin. Someone from the second floor above the gate pours a bucket of water...
...then a cloud of acrid tear gas drifts our way. I run back to the gate, losing Aman in a sea of panicking black robes. More explosions, more tear gas. And then gunshots--first from the mosque, then in retaliation from the rangers. We are caught in a narrow corridor, bullets slicing through the thick smoke on either side of us. A canister of tear gas rolls past my feet, spewing cottony clouds that claw at my eyes and tear at my lungs. Someone from the second floor above the gate pours a bucket of water on us. Blissful reprieve...