Word: dewes
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...horse's flank, all in the blink of an eye. But no artist seems as explicit about this legerdemain as Velazquez. At 20, as The Waterseller attests, he was already a virtuoso of appearances. To be able to record both the half-sunken splash of water and the light dew of condensation on the pottery jar in the + foreground was to have touched a level of skill beyond that of most painters. But then the virtuosity is replaced by something deeper -- a meditation on the way the painter translates sight into mark and how the viewer turns mark back into...
...looks at the thermometer outside his window. He tunes in radio station KFYR in Bismarck for the weather reports. Day after monotonous day the news is the same. Clear skies, or thin empty clouds, temperatures already in the 70s or above and not a trace of dew on the land. When a slight shower came a few days ago, the baked land and superheated air seemed to cause the droplets to vanish as fast as they fell. A ferocious drought feeds itself...
...Wales, Queen Victoria's son and heir. Lovesey proved himself the world's foremost concocter of latter-day Victoriana in his series of mysteries built around Sergeant Cribb, then echoed the early 20th century in the nostalgic Hollywood story Keystone and the brilliantly plotted thriller The False Inspector Dew. Here he returns to 19th century London and, as always, to a subtle but relentless dissection of Britain's unjust social-class system. The rueful, candid voice he gives to the fleshy prince rings true, the details of the horse-racing and music-hall worlds are vivid, and much...
...declares, putting on an artsy accent. "Bringing the-ah-ter to the masses." Franklin nips at a bottle of Maalox and goes off to work singing "It's a beautiful day in Peoria" to the tune of Mr. Rogers' theme song. Burns starts his day with Mountain Dew, because he has checked the label and found caffeine prominent among the ingredients...
...conjures up the terror of a sunless dreamscape. He recalls abrupt summonses, moonlit interrogations in the fields and the quiet dawn in which he had to start digging his own grave -- before being reprieved for hard labor. He describes daytime marches through a desolate land of phantoms. "There was dew on the vegetation, and I washed my face in it. Deer were calling through the mist. We passed through alternating areas of thick forest and cassava fields. The stilted huts in the fields were empty and there was no one on the track...