Word: nez
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Muralist Santiago Martínez Delgado has an artist's feeling for form and color, an expert's taste for whiskey. Last week, the two concerns were closely connected. In a salón of the National Capitol in Bogotá, Martínez was busily slapping strong blues and rich reds on a 30-ft. expanse of wall (see cut). His mural will depict the inauguration of Liberators Simón Bolívar and Francisco de Paula Santander at Rosário de Cúcuta in 1821. If he finished on time there would...
...oldtime Yanqui-Baiter Arnulfo Arias, now campaigning for President (TIME, Dec. 8), had plumped for the deal on grounds that the 600 miles of good roads the U.S. was building to link the bases were just what Panama's underdeveloped interior needed. Besides, President Enrique Adolfo Jiménez had the votes to guarantee National Assembly approval for the agreement...
...refurbishing the century-old Capitolio Nacional, where the sessions will be held. Behind locked doors, Artist Martinez Delgado painted until 2 a.m. on a fresco depicting Bolivar's inauguration in 1821. The block-long Ministry of Government building on the Avenida Jiménez de Quesada was only half-scoured, the cleaned marble and sandstone contrasting sharply with the dingy, unscrubbed sections. Municipal inspectors were touring Bogotá to make sure that citizens were painting and scrubbing their houses, as ordered by the City Council on pain of fines up to 50 pesos ($35). Streets have been repaved, potholes...
...rifle butt and escaped. Their escapes were even narrower than they knew. They built their blockhouse at Fort Mandan, some 1,100 miles up the Missouri, just before the Sioux held a war council. After they crossed the Rockies and were resting, exhausted, before descending the Pacific slope, the Nez Perce Indians decided to wipe them out. The Nez Perces were dissuaded (according to tribal tradition) by a squaw who had once been befriended by some white trappers...
...elder, whom we had seen, was like a swan and thought so herself. Her fair hair, she conveyed to you, was her glory. She was curving and sedate. With the sleepy smile of one lying on a feather bed in Paradise, with tiny grey eyes behind the pince-nez which sat on her nose, with the swell of long low breasts balanced by the swell of her dawdling rump, she moved swanlike to her desk. But not like a swan in the water; like a swan on land. She waddled. Her feet were planted obliquely. One would have said that...