Word: fresh
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...years ago the FBI told them it was no longer pursuing Soliah. But California still wanted her. The recent dip in crime allowed the L.A.P.D.. to reassign officers to unsolved cases, and Lieut. Tom King, 50, whose father Mervin had led the firefight against the S.L.A., took a fresh look at Soliah's and Kilgore's. His men got a federal jury to indict her for "unlawful flight to avoid prosecution." That warrant brought the FBI back in. Last month the bureau posted a $20,000 reward and asked the syndicated TV show America's Most Wanted to feature...
...might be tempted to write off Kosovo as just another Balkan bloodletting. But if the U.S. is to take seriously its credo of humanitarian intervention, politicians and the public need to understand how and why people in the supposedly civilized world fall prey to animal violence. Kosovo has bred fresh hatreds that will lie unresolved beneath every political and social change the West tries to make in this corner of Europe. And we are faced once again this century with the tasks of assigning individual blame for horrors committed in the name of national policy, and determining how best...
...gaunt figure stood outside No. 180 staring at what used to be the home of the 11-member Hasani family. Astrit, 21, one of five known survivors, had braved the empty city to find out how the family compound had fared. Scorch marks scarred the fresh white walls, renovated a year ago, that now rose only head high around debris. "Catastrophe," he said, afraid to enter for fear of booby traps...
This one squeaks with shallow newness, walls too white and paint too fresh. For years, I complained about the rosy glow of my old pink bedroom. Pink wallpaper, pink canopy bed, pink curtains. Six when I picked the hue, I lived with it for 12 years. I quickly tired of it, but never convinced my parents to change it. Now, staring at the plain white walls of my new home, I miss the overwhelming, childish wash of color, remembering how my voice echoed off pinkness in that room. There is something institutional about these walls. Bigger and lighter and emptier...
This one squeaks with shallow newness, walls too white and paint too fresh. For years, I complained about the rosy glow of my old pink bedroom. Pink wallpaper, pink canopy bed, pink curtains. Six when I picked the hue, I lived with it for 12 years. I quickly tired of it, but never convinced my parents to change it. Now, staring at the plain white walls of my new home, I miss the overwhelming, childish wash of color, remembering how my voice echoed off pinkness in that room. There is something institutional about these walls. Bigger and lighter and emptier...