Word: feet
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...with icy blasts. The window and door of my unheated cell rattled with each gust. I had on both my sweaters and a padded jacket, but still spasms of shivering shook my body. In the icy room, my breath made white, cloudy puffs, and I had to stamp my feet and rub my hands to bring blood to my toes and fingers. Something mysterious was happening outside. As winter turned to spring, I learned that Shanghai was in a constant state of upheaval. One day the newspaper ran a statement attributed to Defense Minister Lin Biao: ''Let us not exaggerate...
...door fitted badly; a thin thread of light seeped through the gap. When my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, I saw vaguely that there was a wooden board on the dusty floor and a cement toilet in the corner. The room was no more than about five feet square. The handcuffs felt different. They were much heavier and thicker, with a square edge, not rounded like the others I had worn. My hands felt hot, and my fingers were stiff. I did not know how long I sat there. In a dark room, in complete isolation, time assumed...
...quite a bit of the rice onto the table. Then I turned around, bent over the table and ate like an animal. Although the rice I managed to eat each day did make me feel stronger, I began having difficulty walking. For some reason, the handcuffs were affecting my feet. Like my hands, they felt hot and painful. I staggered about, for my feet could not bear even the reduced weight of my emaciated body. The stains of blood and pus on the quilt became larger and more numerous as the handcuffs cut through more skin on my wrists. Either...
...emphatic two-handed dunk on a breakaway, after Harris had helped force a turnover on the other end. The stuff re-tied the score at 49 apiece and helped fire up the unusually raucous fans in Harvard’s student section. Those fans were on their feet down the stretch, again thanks to Harris’s play. With Harvard leading by 59-58 and 3:15 remaining, Cornell’s 6’10 center Andrew Naeve got open down low for what looked like an easy two points. But as the big man went...
Headaches, heartaches, backaches, aching feet, fatigue, anxiety and those vague, burning pains in your legs at night--these are the nemeses of real doctors. Many people have these symptoms, but the cruel truth is that there is no reliable cure for any of them. Clever doctors watching their incomes melt away have taken notice, establishing all sorts of lucrative NRWAT practices. They've become chiropractors, osteopathic manipulators, prolotherapists, postural therapists, acupuncturists, even Therapeutic Touch practitioners. Each of these therapies proclaims the existence of force fields, bodily reactions, energies or auras that simply cannot be measured or observed scientifically. The "patients...