Word: forlorn
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...tree so withered and broken that only a single scarred branch is still struggling heavenwards. Yet all life has not gone: a tiny leaf, green against the cerulean blue of the sky, stubbornly clings to a twig. For the circle of burka-clad women huddling around the forlorn trunk in the hot, dusty sunshine, it is a sign of hope...
...through the filter of his own somber disposition, to be sure, but with a conviction that the most direct route into the heart of things was by way of what were supposed to be the margins. He liked to be anyplace he could find people who were forlorn, pensive, manic or needy. Exaltation attracted him too. What other word to apply to the mood of that intense man in white praying at the water's edge in Mississippi River, Baton Rouge, Louisiana? And everywhere, he paused in wonder at big, glowing jukeboxes dispensing their industrial light and magic into...
...subjects of her photographs overdosed or died of a disease that people then knew little about. They demonstrated a calculus that today is commonly understood—that makes for E! True Hollywood Stories, not gallery exhibitions—one which draws a correlation between reckless youth and a forlorn future. That said, shocking art on the whole is not as shocking as it was thirty years ago, for the simple reason that the means of communicating one’s story to the masses have been democratized—perhaps even bastardized in the case of social-networking...
...This forlorn, tragicomic event appears in an extraordinary new book called Human Smoke (Simon & Schuster; 566 pages), an experiment in retelling the story of World War II using only brief anecdotes and snippets of primary sources--quotations, diaries, speeches, newspaper articles--placed in chronological order with a minimum of historical commentary. Human Smoke begins, for example, with a remark made by Alfred Nobel in August 1892: "On the day when two army corps may mutually annihilate each other in a second, probably all civilized nations will recoil with horror and disband their troops." The dramatic irony is rich...
...gallery is like entering the drawing room of a wealthy merchant in prewar Vienna, with paintings of dreamy, Italianate landscapes and still lifes of tables piled with feathered game and fruit. You can almost hear the echoes of dinner gossip or a daughter's piano sonata lingering around these forlorn paintings...