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Word: denly (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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...many times this week had he gone to see the dragon? Five? Six? Ten? Fitz had lost count. But he reckoned he went to the den almost every night and paid Ton, the scraggly opium dealer with a green-and-blue dragon tattooed on his thin upper arm, 50 per pipe to get him off. He lay there, watching the dragon coil and uncoil as Ton flexed his arms, working to heat the night-colored opium, mixing the paste with Mr. Headache powder and then rolling it between his palms into cylinders. He broke off pieces from the roll...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Pipe Dreams | 7/30/2001 | See Source »

...Across the street from the 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...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Pipe Dreams | 7/30/2001 | See Source »

...colonial era and then the cold war years of colonialism by proxy, successive generations have increasingly seen the drug as a vestigial tradition, as antiquated as foot binding or entrail reading. The Cultural Revolution obliterated mainland China's opium scene. Hong Kong's last opium den shut down in the '70s, and even famously dissolute Bangkok is reportedly bereft of a working opium den, the pipes consigned to antique stalls at the Saturday flea markets. The fast-lane kids of Asia's supercities prefer to get their kicks smoking speed or swallowing Es. Opium is grandpa's drug...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Pipe Dreams | 7/30/2001 | See Source »

...sauntered down to the water, our fair figures hardly discernable from the surrounding sands. Splashing about in the ocean, I did my best to keep my body hidden beneath the surface. Later, we adjourned to the shore, weary from our frolicking. Like children building a fort in the family den, we huddled beneath a damp towel and looked out at the Pamela Andersons and David Hasselhoffs of the world. Like vampires, we sucked our Pepsi contentedly from our lair and cautiously applied a second layer of Coppertone. I felt compelled to shout out something in a British accent...

Author: By Kristen E. Kitchen, | Title: POSTCARD FROMWINTER PARK, FLA.: Tanless in Florida | 7/20/2001 | See Source »

...These new independents are next door to a stalwart neighbor--Grendel’s Den, which re-opened last year after an elaborate renovation...

Author: By Kristoffer A. Garin, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: Lost in the Blur of the Changing Square | 6/7/2001 | See Source »

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