Word: inners
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Instead, he encounters the world. A power-mad dictator, Shogo, establishes a great city but it is overthrown by Blimpish invaders blasting away with gunboats and Christian hymns. This regime establishes an inner tyranny of sin and guilt, and it too collapses. At play's end a nude man, all but drowned, clambers out of a river and towels himself off-the naked ape-a genius at survival and a dunce at self-transcendence...
...went to Lowell Lecture Hall. As we entered the inner doors, a multi-sensory flash suggested that perhaps my preconceptions were a tad inaccurate. I saw twice as many people as I have ever seen in a lecture hall. The crowd made last year's standing-room-only SDS meetings look like steering committee caucuses. I led interference for my friend, and with good cheer we barreled our way through the aisles to look for seats...
...construction is, of course, good for a city's economy-it brings tax money. lunchtime shoppers and employees who will want to live in the inner city. But it should be possible to get all that and good urban design too. For example, the Prudential Center didn't have to cloister itself on its side of Boylston Street. Set far back from the sidewalk, it destroys the street front which is crucial to Back Bay. The escalators which presumably lead into it are no substitute for store fronts and other visual and physical openings. Also, the whole development...
Harvard Psychologist Erik Erikson, for example, has written that the determinant of a woman's identity is her "inner space, destined to bear the offspring of chosen men." He has observed little boys building "high towers" and "façades with protrusions," while little girls build "interior" scenes with "low walls," often "intruded by animals or dangerous men." There must be a connection, he says, between such play spaces, genital differences, and the unique functions and personalities of the sexes...
...FLOW. Like the October Moratorium in Boston, the next day's march was fluid-not a march, but a flow, with its own inner currents. Unlike the October march, it was joyous. Even some of the policemen were smiling. The sun was shining, the air was crisp. We chanted some, just to let Washington know. And we sang, because we wanted to. Some of my Harvard friends started the refrain of "Alice's Restaurant," and a few other people joined in. Every now and then an enchanting little tune wound its way down the line: "Oh, what a lovely thing...