Word: railways
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...antipodean backpackers, are taking advantage of the cameras. "We get a lot of Australians and tourists waving with signs saying 'Hello Mum' and 'Happy Birthday' to friends and family logged on back home," says manager Allen Piper. Across town in the business district Christina O'Sullivan, manager of the Railway Tavern, sees the webcams as a boon to business. "We can advertise upcoming promotions as well as what's going on in the pub," she says. "It's also a way for people to see the pubs, decide if they like what they see and then choose which one suits...
...chaotic days following the end of World War II, Hiromu Nonaka went to work for the sales department of the Osaka railway. The man who may become Japan's next Prime Minister impressed his bosses so much that they made him a supervisor. Then one night Nonaka overheard a worker say something so upsetting that he quit his job. Bitter and determined, he returned to his hometown of Sonobe, where he ran for a seat on the town council, beginning a remarkable political career that has taken him to the inner circle of Japan's political Elite. What...
Going to the website's logs, Shih discovered a conversation on the night of the death between two people using the handles Sadistic Dog and Come Out To Play Now. The two cyberpals agreed to meet at a bank across from the Taipei Railway Station. Police had already found Lin's discarded backpack in a trashbin near the station. Inside was a bus ticket confirming that the student traveled to the station at 7:32 that evening. Breakthrough: the victim was linked to the chat room...
...father John, a carpenter and cabinetmaker and railway mail clerk, is taking his leave of this world in a bedroom that was mine when I was 18. I lay where he is lying now, in the northeast corner of the room, and looked out the window at night to a red blinking light on a distant water tower and imagined living in New York City and other grand things, and now at 87 he lies in the bed and imagines the risen Christ meeting him with open arms, as in the hymns that his morning nurse Ramona sings...
What gleams on the surface in Furst's books is his vivid, precise evocation of mood, time, place, a letter-perfect re-creation of the quotidian details of World War II Europe that wraps around us like the rich fug of a wartime railway station. He puts us on the exact street where the Daisy Bar sat in Montmartre, gives us the heavy smell of an eau de toilette called Zouave. His stories rumble along in the dreary trains that seemed to be forever crisscrossing Europe...