Word: lover
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...sublime feeling of relief and reward when that interest is returned. There are the flowers you buy and the poetry you write and the impulsive trip you make to the other side of the world just so you can spend 48 hours in the presence of a lover who's far away. That's an awful lot of busywork just to get a sperm to meet an egg-if merely getting a sperm to meet an egg is really all that it's about...
...Naughty boy,” the woman murmurs at the unexpected click of the camera. Buttocks, bare back, graceful arms: the whole is captured by the unseen photographer through the open bathroom door. The year is 1952, and Simone de Beauvoir is visiting her American lover in Chicago. She never saw the photograph—the film was lost for 50 years—but last week Frenchmen saw her naked figure on newsstands across the country. The debate rages over whether Nouvel Observateur, a popular weekly, should have put this photo on its cover to commemorate the centenary...
...comedienne Judy Kaye, in last year's Broadway revival, saw Lovett as the flip side of Sweeney: they're both killers, but he's in it for retribution, she for the sick fun. Bonham Carter, though, is a figure of crafty scorn, and nearly as misanthropic as her demon lover. Ill fortune has ground him down; for her, it's the long slog of surviving among London's lower and criminal classes. The woman's dreamy side surfaces only in her number "By the Sea," where she envisions a retirement idyll. But her dreams take her only so far: Sweeney...
...custom of grooms arriving on horseback dates to the 12th century, when Prithviraj Chauhan, a Rajput ruler of north India, eloped on horseback with his lover Sanyogita, daughter of a rival ruler. It has since become a time-honored tradition for north Indian grooms to whisk away their brides on a shining white mare - mare, not horse, as a mare is considered auspicious, although it is an open secret that the mare is often substituted by a castrated horse. But for those looking to flaunt their wealth, a mare just doesn't cut it when there's an elephant...
...worry that you, dear reader, might be anxious at this juncture in my narrative. Did I ever find my inner nature lover, and/or manage to assimilate successfully into the Harvard community? Well, no...but hey, assimilation—and fleece—are overrated...