Word: felted
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...when I turned 12, the magic failed. Peter Tchaikovsky's score failed to captivate--I found musical intoxication impossible without a beat--and sitting in the audience, I felt more like a babysitter than a dance afficianado. Eight years passed since I had last seen the curtain rise on a snowy night in Nuremburg and watched a petticoated-child journey through the land of the Sugar Plum Fairy. And suddenly, this Christmas I found myself listening to Tchaikovsky's tale and thinking of how long it had been since dolls and tutus. I wanted to prove to myself that magic...
...once I entered the theater, I forgot all this. Ticket clenched in my hand as I poked it out at the usher, I felt the once-familiar tremor of seeing a show. Beneath the domed murals of the main hall, people sipped champagne from slender glasses, and children were seen--not heard. Grandmothers' wrinkled hands locked with their grandchildren's small, pink fingers. Inside the theater was the matinee atmosphere I associated with The Nutcracker. Adults called across seats to one another, and children skipped up and down the aisles in a rush of anticipation...
Apparently the Administration felt that Harvard developed a party image comparable to UCLA or Miami. There were too many parties, too much dating, too much of a good time had by all. Admissions officers were running from Byerly Hall in panic crying, "Before you know it we'll be as fun a school as U-VA or Stanford, and our GPAs, LSATs and XYZPDQs will go down the tubes...
...agreement that would allow the U.S. to maintain some missiles in Europe for a limited period. In its place was the zero option, which would meet the long-standing Soviet objective of keeping all American missiles off the Continent. As before, having originally proposed the zero option, the Administration felt it could not reject it at Reykjavik...
...terraces, Inigo Jones' Banqueting House, John Soane's Bank of England and Wren's churches were juxtaposed with discordantly cheap, gray cement-and-glass office boxes and grim "purpose-built" public housing that sprouted in craters left by German V-bombs. Squares and courtyards were bulldozed flat. Planners who felt that London was too dense and dark decided that new buildings should reach up high in search of light. They rose, in fact, to the 52-story, 600-ft. level of the NatWest Tower, dwarfing the 365-ft.-high St. Paul's dome. According to Gavin Stamp, architecture critic...