Word: paled
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Just before 9 a.m., a dusty yellow bus pulls up to a corner in midtown Manhattan and lets out a dozen black-coated, bearded Hasidic Jews from Brooklyn. Others, similarly dressed, come pouring out of the subway entrance. Swiftly, the narrow, dirty street begins its daily transformation. Pale hands splay rainbows of gems across velvet cloths in store windows, magically making each an entrance to Ali Baba's cave. This is West 47th Street, a tiny world of its own that handles about half of the diamonds entering the U.S. Here brokers play middleman between American buyers...
Camus himself would turn pale, would be irritable, even belligerent, when he drank too much. Simone de Beauvoir was somewhere in the middle. She was obviously interested in Camus, while he confided to a friend that he stayed away from her because he feared she would talk too much in bed. Her caustic treatment of Camus in her memoirs has been ascribed to spite, just as Sartre was patently jealous of the younger man who could attract women even without the exploitation of his intellect and reputation. In fact, Beauvoir wasn't as caustic as all that...
...eateries specializing in a local delicacy: snake. Among the potables on their bills of fare are bottles of a vodka-like liquor in which live serpents have been put to steep. Another quick pick-me-up is whisky fortified with powdered python. Also on the menu is tang, thick, pale yellow serpent soup. To tempt appetites, restaurateurs feature window displays of writhing snakes in glass bowls...
...cold, the formality of the body emphasized by photographic-style cropping−has produced one of the best paintings of his career in Female Model on Platform Rocker, 1977 -78, with its uneasily tilting floor line and stutter of shadows cast by the slats of the chair across the pale wall. California's Robert Graham is represented by a group of his small, fragmentary bronze torsos, minutely finished, imbued with something of the erotic dandyism of the Belle Epoque. But the prize for obsessiveness, were it to be given, surely belongs to Gregory Gillespie, 44, whose Self-Portrait...
...young relative who missed him during a visit: I hear that you are dissatisfied because you did not see your uncle Einstein. Let me therefore tell you what I look like: pale face, long hair, and a tiny beginning of a paunch. In addition an awkward gait, and a cigar in the mouth-if he happens to have a cigar-and a pen in his pocket or his hand. But crooked legs and warts he does not have, and so he is quite handsome ... It is indeed a pity that...