Word: shadows
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...want to know their adopted city better. And all the while it manages to avoid the exotic clich?s prevalent in most books on Indonesia. In fact, Jakarta Inside Out is cheekily stamped "Wayang Free," certifying that there are no representations?visual, metaphorical or otherwise?of the traditional Indonesian shadow puppets. Now that's something worth putting on your coffee table...
...growing up in the shadow of NASA's Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Ala., Hendricks was as fascinated by the stars over his head as by the insects at his feet. After earning a degree in history, he became a university fund-raising consultant outside Washington, where Discovery is based today. Then in 1985, at a time when the TV documentary had been written off as an idea past its prime, he enlisted the moral support of Walter Cronkite (whom he cold-called) and the financial muscle of media-investment firm Allen & Co. to help him launch the Discovery...
...future reference, if you want to live in a nice suburb with affordable housing where everyone goes to sleep at 11 p.m. and there’s no fear of your river view being blocked by a new academic monstrosity, don’t live under the shadow of the world’s richest, ever-expanding university. That’s like moving to New York City and complaining about traffic noise...
While it is inappropriate to assume that, as members of Augusta, Houghton, Daniels and Stone are necessarily opposed to diversity, their membership does represent their alignment with an exclusionary club. Harvard, as an institution run by people belonging to that club, suffers by association. To counter the shadow cast on our University those members should publicly reaffirm their commitment to diversity and openness, particularly within institutions that have traditionally been insular clubs for the elite...
Walking through Sever Quad, it’s hard to believe that earlier in the day the shadow of Widener Library seemed so imposing. The darkness envelopes me as I stroll through the cold toward Leverett, and, for once, the yard is completely quiet, save for footsteps of passersby. Music still plays within my head, but a softer tune, muted by the distance between the present moment and the HRO rehearsal that just ended. The third movement of Tchaikovsky’s fifth symphony, with its soaring, romantic violin strains, makes the chilly walk warmer...