Word: paunches
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...with Barrera at all, but rather with a middle-aged couple walking down a narrow street gray with afternoon shadows cast by deteriorating tenement houses. The wife has long sagging brown hair and dark tired eyes. She wears a beaten skirt and a plain white blouse. The husband, his paunch hanging over his belt, talks with a gusto that tries to hide the hardships so apparent in the lines of his face. He waits outside as his wife enters a factory for a job interview. Inside a doctor's office for a medical examination, she and another, younger, woman stand...
...turned out, was 24 years old. He was developing a little paunch, stood about 5' 10", wore sideburns and a moustache. He looked Italian, with big dark brown eyes, and one of his bicuspids was gone so that when he grinned you could see the hole. It was becoming somehow: frank, as if he no more would have gotten a false tooth than lied to you for no good reason. He spoke Massachusetts-city-boy and we liked each other right away. We compared notes on dates and places in the Army; we had overlapped in Vietnam but were never...
...served while-u-wait. She is working eight hours a day in a starched white uniform and a red-checkered apron, and she lives above the restaurant with the manager. He is 45 and divorced, a Methodist believer who neither drinks or smokes. He is balding with a budding paunch, he likes the movies, reads little, and drives a shark blue Dodge Dart. She cleans his place and cooks for him after work when they tire of Purple Pickle fare, and she rarely leaves the building. She seeks out no one from her past...
...maturity during the decade past, a Dylan concert is a three-hour detour through deja vu. Like images on Plato's cave, Clearasil coeds with Joan Baez hair and men silently hunkered inside thick pea jackets appear and quickly pass- yesterday's graduate students, now headed toward paunch or pregnancy. Dylan concerts draw people who inhabited the fringes of campus teach-ins, rode Mississippi freedom buses and marched down endless University Avenues searching for an end to the draft...
Henri Gault and Christian Millau have much in common. Both are 44-year-old Sunday cooks and year-round gourmets-curiously slight of paunch considering their present trade-who once worked as reporters on the now defunct Paris Presse. The solidest bond between the two is the joy they share in debunking the culinary canons of their fellow Frenchmen. They condone serving red wine with fish, accept Israelite gras as only "slightly inferior" to the product of Strasbourg and advise housewives to shorten the cooking hours of those long, loving, simmering stews. They have even dared to question butter...