Word: noonday
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...July day in Amagansett, N.Y., and the noonday sun glared down at a crowded Long Island beach. Perched atop his observation stand, a bronzed lifeguard, hatless and clad only in abbreviated trunks, kept close watch on the few dozen waders and swimmers braving the still frigid waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Around him, hundreds of sunbathers sprawled on the sand. Some, mostly older, shielded themselves from the sun's fierce rays under broad- brimmed hats and umbrellas. But much of the crowd baked contentedly in the sunlight, wearing only scanty swimsuits and little or no sunscreen. At the water...
...least 100 degrees in the noonday sun. Mario Vargas Llosa stands on an outdoor stage draped with sewn-together sheets pinned with red and white paper flowers. He is in Bagua, a dusty town in the north Peruvian jungle known more for its rice growing than for its literary sophistication. As the primarily Indian audience of several thousand watches, a partially toothless man wearing sunglasses and a pale blue guayabera hoarsely yells, "Mario, Presidente! Mario, Presidente!" Then the candidate speaks, promising, if he is elected this coming Sunday, to bring prosperity to the Amazonas province. "In this region," he proclaims...
...angles his upper body toward the sound. A black preacher is crying out his sermon, his voice cracking with emotion through line after line, at times shifting to an eerie falsetto high above the drone of his congregation. It's part Motown, part a century or two of brutal noonday toil, and it will raise the hairs on the back of your neck...
Wall Street was in a panic today, with no one to guide it out . . . Selling was at a furious pace . . . News to noonday had been quite cheerful, but it was not sufficiently encouraging to stem the tide of frantic selling, which came from all parts of the world, from rich and poor alike . . . The demoralization of the market was complete . . . Many speculators lost all their money . . . The senior partner of a leading exchange house described the situation as "pitiable." Brokers had weeping women in their offices, and in some instances weeping...
...your mates are interesting, bookish but not stodgy, you stand a good chance of being stood to supper. The beef is from her own Charolais, the vegetables from the hothouse. The music might be an old somebody-done-somebody-wrong cowboy song. Also, the same trick works at noonday if you catch her with one or two spare biscuits in the pan. "I don't mind feeding the customers," Winifred says. "I like good conversation at my table...