Word: cups
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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There is nothing slack about the apparent softness of his interiors and still lifes, like the great Dining Room Overlooking the Garden, 1930-31. The light shifts and shimmers, and some of the objects on the table are drowned in it. Here is a jug, there a cup, there a brioche--but what is that oval yellowish object on the right of the tabletop? Forms sink against the light, and at first you hardly even see the ailing Marthe in her housecoat at the left edge of the painting, timidly holding her cup. Yet, as so often happens with Bonnard...
Talk about a rude awakening. just a few weeks ago, France was riding high on the strength of its surprise win over Brazil in the World Cup. Then came the Tour de France--or, as some bicycling fans are calling it, the Tour des Drugs--which limped to a finish last week under a deepening cloud. Five cyclists and team officials have been placed under formal investigation for using or helping riders to use artificial substances to boost their performance. As the police widened their probe, a Dutch team and all four Spanish teams indignantly quit the race...
PARIS: Dieu merci for the World Cup. As this year's Tour de France wilts under a barrage of midnight drug raids and cycling teams' quitting in protest, TIME Paris bureau chief Thomas Sancton says, France's successful staging of the Coupe de Monde is saving the nation from cultural humiliation and putting the blame for the fiasco where it belongs: on the rotten state of international cycling. "The whole thing just stinks," he says. "The intense nationalism, the publicity and the big-money sponsors have pressed riders to achieve superhuman feats, and many have turned to performance-enhancing drugs...
After watching her get 27 inoculations for a slew of strange diseases and realizing that it's darn hard to get a good cup of java in the rainforest (even if you're in Java), I decided to spend my summer in the marshy, bug-infested, urban jungle of Washington...
Then we sat immobile in traffic for the next four hours watching those we had beat to the bus walk past us as they made their way home. As they passed, one with a cup of coffee turned and waved back. Maybe I should have gone to East Africa...