Word: half-moons
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...weeks later, a pricey half-moon of supple leather named the Muse bag was born. That was June 2005. By the end of summer, it was dangling from the arms of actresses and It girls like Demi Moore and Kate Moss, and by fall the mythic house of Yves Saint Laurent had itself a best seller...
...darkness, patrolling for insurgents in blind alleys custom-made for ambushes and narrow passages perfect for concealing roadside bombs. It was anyone's bet who faced a more dire risk, the hunted in terrorist cells or the hunters in humvees, along with whom I was riding under a half-moon. I was in Iraq to profile the American soldier as "Person of the Year" for TIME magazine. It was a dream assignment, a chance to escape Washington and work in exotic environs on a big story...
...with other artists. As grinning barefoot toddlers tug at the visitor's clothes for attention, Long spreads a glowing acrylic painting on the floor. "This is where the star man came down," she says, her hand passing gently over a path of pink and yellow dots falling from a half-moon into the crater, which is viewed, as landscapes are in many Aboriginal paintings, as if from above. "He went in here," she says, jabbing at a blue dot slightly off-center. And though the ancient people who first told this story could never have known how close their falling...
Nearing 1 a.m., Sunday, Sept. 3., just beyond the French navy's 12-mile exclusion zone at Mururoa, the South Pacific atoll where France plans to test nuclear bombs. Light wind. Half-moon. Waves from a far-off storm swell under La Rebaude, a broken-engined, radio-dead ketch owned by Greenpeace. The crew hands two black-painted sea kayaks over the rail. They are then tethered to a Zodiac inflatable boat already pitching in the water...
...gaze is usually impenetrable and impatient, but on this night his brown eyes glistened with moisture. His smile is generally a measured half-moon, but on this night his mouth widened into a toothy grin. From the moment he ascended the multi-tiered podium in Atlanta, before he uttered a single syllable, the Democratic nominee seemed a man transformed. Punching the air in triumph, blowing kisses to his wife: these were not the metronomic gestures of a soulless technocrat. Could that be Michael Dukakis, the unflappable exponent of cool reason, choking on his words? Yes, there was a catch...