Word: dankness
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...ascend the tomb's stepped granite blocks to the mouth of the crypt. A bored-looking Chinese guide watches me curiously as I examine the dank and empty hulk of the pyramid's interior. In a sign of deference, Chinese and South Korean banknotes and coins are strewn across the stone slabs of what are ostensibly the sarcophagi of Changsu and his consort. It's a telling display of the two national claims on the site. Hearing of my interest in Koguryo, the guide challenges me, eager to gauge my opinion on a controversial subject. "Was Koguryo a Chinese...
...woods and backways. People and cars are missing, the light is fading and summer never comes. In Scenes from the Passion: The Fall a line of derelict garages bisects the picture, beneath a band of brooding trees and a lemon sky, and its image is repeated in the dank surface water. In his youth, he found that the kind of art contained in books - "drawings of dead Jesus, sliced lemons and bottles of wine" - had "little connection with growing up in a council house." At Sheffield Polytechnic in the late 1980s he found himself creating "as an art student...
...often, and a scrupulous kid brother Mike. In the movie, they are sensibly excised as being useless to our understanding of Sidney. This creature didn't come out of a womb but from under a rock. He has no lineage; he created himself, in the dark, dank, rank cave of his ambitions. The film is interested only in how he gets by in this "dog-eat-dog" world. ("Every dog will have his day," says the movie Sidney, who's full of animal metaphors.) At its black heart, "Sweet Smell" is about that honorable, horrible thing called work. Take Sidney...
...angle taken most easily, of course, involves the down-and-dirty possibilities of the case--the lurid interest in Condit's apartment house, shown frequently on TV and looking like the soulless building where Isabella Rossellini was kept in Blue Velvet; the images of secret lovemaking on dank and silent Washington summer evenings; new old girlfriends turning up on a weekly basis, talking of being told not to talk. One could swim down into this stuff or pretend to sail above it (as this paragraph somewhat does) and swim while sailing...
...village chief's wood-frame house, however, in a little bar where two Vietnamese men sit drinking bottled Bia Lao beer, smoking A-daeng cigarettes and spitting onto the concrete floor, there is plenty of opium. Several foreigners are already in the back-room den, crashed out on dank mattresses having puffed their way through half a dozen pipes each. Sophie, a blond English girl in her 20s, insists the black-trousered O-man, as she calls the Vietnamese boy loading pipes, give her and her friends the best possible dope. "Make sure it's Opium No. 1, okay...