Word: exhaustion
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...Saigon, the posters and painted slogans of the defunct Thieu regime had disappeared, swept away by a massive cleanup campaign. Other remnants of capitalism, like advertising posters and bright neon signs, were expected to go next. The cloud of exhaust smoke that customarily hovered over Saigon was gone, a result of the city's gasoline shortage. There were far more bicycles on the street than before, even though their price had quadrupled. Black pajamas, the customary clothing of the Viet Cong guerrillas, doubled in price...
...uncover its roots; by revealing that the Guallist state rested on the hollow foundations of historical myth which concealed continuity in the guise of change. Ophuls lent a particular urgency to his challenge. The progeny spawned by The Sorrow and the Pity have not yet begun to exhaust the avenues of investigation it opened. Bogging down in the confused psyches of its characters and the predictable suspense of its plot, Black Thursday obscures more than it illuminates. Les Violons du Bal, while far more interesting cinematically, does little more than delineate fruitful questions and tentative solutions...
...slap tight controls on wages and prices and limit imports drastically. The result would be a sharp decline in British living standards. While recently presenting a new budget that imposes an additional 25% tax on most luxury items, Chancellor of the Exchequer Denis Healey warned that Britain must not exhaust the patience of foreign lenders. "We would then face the appalling prospect of going down in a matter of weeks to the levels of public services and personal living standards which we could finance from what we earned," he said. "I do not believe that our political and social system...
...thoroughfares looked like the site of a weird Grand Prix, a kind of motorcade to nowhere. Climbing aboard bicycles, pedicabs, Hondas, mini-Jeeps, taxis, small trucks-anything that would move -Saigonese sped up and down broad boulevards lined by huge tamarind trees. The hot dry air turned blue with exhaust smoke as the procession wheeled endlessly past the sidewalk cafés where red-bereted French paratroopers and homesick G.I.s once sat, watching the lissome Vietnamese girls stroll...
...sport is purely hygienic. The bouncing exercise never allows the eyes to rest; the country seems to jiggle by on springs. The motorist glides on air and shock absorbers, but his speed undoes him. The scenery is a blur, the highlights only a few seconds in duration. And his exhaust clouds the air he travels through. The cyclist pedals between his two contemporaries. Neither pedestrian nor driver, he is a happy anomaly, a 20th century centaur. Away from trucks and taxis, he has no competition; all turf is his. The novice and the regular both know the cyclist...