Word: plastically
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...Back at the hospital, the bodies wrapped in blankets and plastic sheets and bound tight with tape are lowered from a refrigerated truck into the carpenter Salem's pine coffins. Some of the bagged bodies are pathetically small - hospital officials say that over half of them are children. Other coffins are filled with several shopping bags, all that remains of some of the victims. The bodies had been stored in a makeshift morgue - a refrigerated meat transport truck brought from Tripoli in northern Lebanon at the outset of the war in anticipation of many fatalities. But the corpses are rotting...
...some cases, there's only so much one can do. I met Abisamra while witnessing a tragic, but increasingly common, scene. An extended family of Shi'ites from Tyre in the south was seated on a semi-circle of white plastic chairs. The men wore grim expressions. They had just been told that Hussein Zikehammede, 40, and his father, Hajj Zikehammede, 70, had been killed in an Israeli missile strike yesterday on their way south to fetch Hussein's wife and six children and bring them to safety. According to Hussein's cousin, Majid Hammadi, the two men were about...
...showroom for the quirky casual wear of Caroline Foulon, Valérie Berckmans and Daniel Henry; and Céline Collard, who uses irregular-cut necklines, funky buttons and ruched sleeves to create T shirts a cut above the ordinary. And when the money is burnt and the plastic has melted, cool off with a cherry beer at De Walvis at 209 Rue Antoine Dansaert, tel: (32-2) 219 9532, the watering hole of the art and design set. Some things, thankfully, never change...
...time the winding road descends into the chalky hills around the southern Lebanese market town of Nabatieh, the roads have cleared of all vehicles. Indeed, the ramshackle villages with their litter-strewn streets appear deserted. Occasionally one or two people are seen, sitting in plastic chairs on the side of the road, chatting and smoking cigarettes. The shops, however are all closed. And high above is the incessant, threatening rumble of Israeli jets and the irritating whine of reconnaissance drones...
...passenger asks, overtaken with curiosity. “College of Charleston?” Simon answers as meekly as possible. The light is about to change and the car inches forward towards the onramp. “Get in,” the driver says, her voice cracking. A plastic blowfish bath toy swings from the rearview mirror. The car smells like saccharin, like a new synthetic interior mixed with a kid come straight off the playground. The doughy-faced, front-seat passenger introduces us first to her 10-year-old daughter, sitting next to Simon, and then...