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Word: flashings (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
Dates: during 2000-2009
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Usage:

...flash and then the mushroom cloud. It's pretty spectacular, like a roiling mass of burning smoke and fire. The colors varied between salmon and pink and yellow flame in color...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Frederick Ashworth, 93 | 7/25/2005 | See Source »

...girl. I can sacrifice a little hipness for the sake of my offspring. Besides, whatever my new midnight-blue ride lacks in exterior flash it more than makes up for with interior luxuries: huge leather seats, lightning-quick seat warmers, individual climate control, DVD player, satellite radio, five-CD changer, three power outlets for my cell phone, "conversation mirror" (to facilitate chats with backseat passengers), voice-activated navigation system and, of course, 15 cup holders for those mornings when I feel the need for several different flavors of Frappuccino. Throw in a wet bar and a shower massage...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: My Roving Barcalounger | 7/24/2005 | See Source »

...because it took longer. Then it exploded." The pilot of the Enola Gay, Colonel Paul Tibbets, had put the plane into a 180? turn to the west and was getting away from the target as fast as he could. "All we saw," recalls Van Kirk, "was a bright flash...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Living Under the Cloud | 7/24/2005 | See Source »

...ground, half a mile from where the bomb dropped, Michiko Yamaoka, then a 15-year-old student, saw the same flash. Today she describes it as like a burst of light from an unearthly photo shoot, big enough to cover the sky, "blue-yellow and very beautiful." Yamaoka was blown off her feet. When she came to, she had burns all over her body, and, she says, she could "hear people calling out for help and the crackle of fire coming from burning houses ... people moaning from pain, with eyes popped out and intestines coming out of their stomachs...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Living Under the Cloud | 7/24/2005 | See Source »

...going with me-she’s a volunteer here with a humanitarian NGO as well-has been here a few weeks longer, so she is the one squinting into the dark looking for the right set of headlights. Suddenly, something on one of the side roads emits a flash and a roar-I look up to see not the bus but someone in a reflector-taped crossing-guard vest waving wildly at us, shouting in our direction. “I think someone’s calling you, Elisa,” I say. I’ve been...

Author: By Grace Tiao, | Title: A Bus Stop Bear Hug | 6/27/2005 | See Source »

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