Word: humidities
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...Joey Wong) in a Suzhou noble house. The film is so saturated in the sad glamour of their love that style becomes substance. The women don't make their sexual affinity explicit; but one can always feel the breath of the other's erotic interest, and the air goes humid with promise. Seeing Peony Pavilion is like getting high on the opium smoke a beautiful woman exhales as she gazes into your eyes and says, "Maybe...
...Rong later has a heterosexual tryst (another hot turn by Daniel Wu), and Jade feels fatally betrayed. But Rong has never consummated her feeling for Jade; she just keeps dangerously near, within kissing distance. Jade can always feel the breath of Rong's erotic interest, and the air goes humid with promise. Yonfan's film is just as tantalizing, as delicately decadent, as Rong's hovering love. Seeing it is like getting high?on the opium smoke a beautiful woman exhales as she gazes into your eyes and says, "Maybe...
...killed innocent women and children while on a mission in the Mekong Delta. I reckon that thousands of grunts went through the same experience. But if what they did was appalling, it was comprehensible. In a way, they were victims of the machine that vaulted them into a hot, humid, shadowy, alien environment in which friend and foe were a blur, and all a potential threat. Kerrey and his men, like their comrades in other detachments, were chronically and justifiably scared...
...killed innocent women and children while on a mission in the Mekong Delta. I reckon that thousands of grunts went through the same experience. But if what they did was appalling, it was comprehensible. In a way, they were victims of the machine that vaulted them into a hot, humid, shadowy, alien environment in which friend and foe were a blur, and all a potential threat. Kerrey and his men, like their comrades in other detachments, were chronically and justifiably scared...
...reading period draws to a close, the pressure begin to build in earnest. Slowly the cold but humid Harvard air becomes oppressive, thick and heavy. I become Ed Harris in The Abyss, breathing a slurry of oxygenated hydrocarbons. Each breath is positive work, my diaphragm labors draw the viscous fluid into my screaming lungs, then expels it out again through my narrow trachea. I am in a slow-motion free-fall through frigid, silent water, receding from the dim light of the sun as the deep rushes to swallow me. Every moment of descent adds thousands of pounds of water...