Word: embers
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French terror expert Roland Jacquard says the apparent fanaticism beneath Cherifi's well-adjusted exterior is characteristic of Europe's current generation of Islamist operatives. "Recruiters dig through what you or I may consider success, achievement or promise to find that ember of racial, social or religious anger and resentment," Jacquard says. In cases like Cherifi's, he adds, that ember is often a lingering fury at the racial and economic prejudices that French Arabs and their families feel they suffer in French society. Ironically, that anger can be fanned into flame by their own success in climbing...
...upon itself like a giant souffle, only to see its internal furnace briefly restoked in several last gasps. These will swell the sun's outer layers so they engulf all the inner planets, including Earth, turning it into what astrophysicist Neil de Grasse Tyson calls "a red-hot charred ember." The sun's red-giant phase will be brief, however. Shedding its heat and gases, it will become a cold, compact cadaver no bigger than Earth, a white dwarf lost in space...
...Gilberto answering in Portuguese (gentle and soothing as a priest's voice in a confessional) and Stan Getz's tenor sax sweetly flowing through the song like a warm river. "This is where I want to be/here with you so close to me/until the final flicker of life's ember..." It's a song, I think, that will stand as long as the mountain stands - it's that good. Are there acts at Rock in Rio that are producing musical art that's as worthwhile? I mean, besides Papa Roach...
...cope with ever more burdensome restrictions on his beloved habit. Modine sees poetry in partaking. "There are times which are just really fantastic cigarette moments," says Modine. "That postcoital cigarette, or that cold winter night walking down the street. There's nothing more comforting than holding a burning ember in your hands and sucking the smoke into your lungs. The coffeehouse cigarette. The cigarette after a couple of pints of lager...
...wood. Within minutes, his tennis shoes can be heard trudging the roof, accompanied by a slight hiss of water. Then he comes down again. "There's hardly any water pressure," he laments, a fact that has been hampering official fire fighters all day. Outside on his patio, an ember alights on a flower and incinerates it. The phone rings. It's his wife. "Yeah," he says. "I have it under control right now, but I'm in trouble. O.K. . . . I'll call you back." He fills a bucket in his basement and heads back to the roof...