Word: dust
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...wintry mornings, when the sun burns off the pearl and filthy mist, Fuji still soars beyond the freeway. And every week a dozen tank cars rumble through the pine grove of the Imperial Palace, hosing dust and soot from the drooping needles. The harbor itself, and the once limpid Sumida River where warrior-poets repaired, are now thick with wastes-both human and industrial. Yet there is scarcely a resident of Tokyo who could not compose a stately, sympathetic waka in the shade of his humble eaves...
Nowadays the fragrance of Hong Kong comes from dead fish, firecracker dust, rotting cabbage, auto exhausts and night soil, all woven into a unique miasma. There are 100,000 people who live afloat in suburbs of sampans and never use a toilet or garbage pail. But the main source of trouble is a place ten miles from the city quaintly named Gin Drinkers' Bay by the British and more accurately known as Garbage Bay to the Chinese...
...Flowerday, putting the Ranger back in the saddle is a particular labor of love: it was he who used to clomp a pair of rubber plumber's friends in a box of gravel at Detroit's Station WXYZ whenever Silver galloped off in a cloud of dust. For radio listeners surfeited with news and music and music and news, Shadow, Ranger and Hornet are a welcome relief from the prevailing tedium of the medium. Nor does one need a 21-in. screen to visualize Margo Lane as she weathers perils that make Pauline's seem like playschool...
Eight Hundred Hostesses. By day, the city is in the throes of major construction that fills the air with dust and snarls traffic along its tree-lined boulevards and across the 1,700 bridges that span its ancient networks of canals (some of which are being filled in to provide 40 miles of expressways and parking space). By night, its theater and nightclub districts glow in gaudy neon. Fun-loving citizens fill dozens of giant cabarets, one of which offers 800 hostesses to entertain customers, or ogle the sights from a 338-ft. observation tower, the symbol of the city...
...that distant from Goya's black nightmare paintings. Their colors are gloomy or veiled. They rarely use oils pure from the tube but rather blend them with earths to make their impastos. They seem, like the flamenco dancer holding his head high while his feet stomp in the dust, trapped in a tragic, often elegant, dilemma between formality and earthiness...