Word: silk
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...Marx and Lenin, our North Korean hosts arranged a seminar on what life was like under the Japanese. In a lecture hall upstairs, the Japanese audience listened to Kwak Kum Nyo, 76, describe how she became a comfort woman at 16 when Japanese police ordered the manager of the silk factory where she worked to pick 20 girls with "good physiques." Handed over to the army, she was forced to provide sex to as many as 15 soldiers a day. Kwak eventually escaped through a sewage outlet. There was no way to confirm her story independently, but it jibed with...
...smiley. Geezers and geezerettes go around in juvenile clothes, shorts and flip-flops and jokey T shirts (my goal is to live forever. so far, so good). Embarrassing. A man my age should not aim for boyishness. He should wear an old tweed jacket and wool trousers and a silk vest with a great belly under it and have wild eyebrows the size of rats and carry a knobby walking stick and smoke torpedo cigars and sit around kicking the bejabbers out of the government. A guy can do that in Scotland...
...need were sufficiently dire. Presumably the Chinese invasion of Tibet was not dire enough, because the sharira is still waiting to be discovered when the diabolical Karl (played by Richard Roxburgh) sets his sights on it. (We know Karl is evil from the start because he wears a black silk smoking jacket and uses words such as apropos.) Karl hires Eric (Chaplin), a master thief with the requisite heart of gold, to help him get the sharira. In turn, Eric involves his old girlfriend Lin (Yeoh) and her little brother Tong (Brandon Chang), star performers in a Chinese circus...
...decadent femmes suggested a heated-up Max Ophuls; Meyer, with his brisk shearing of every shot to milliseconds, was the redneck Resnais. Metzger was the elegant gent on a leisurely prowl of the haut monde, as fascinated by the d?cor of a bedroom as by the woman on the silk sheets; Meyer was the combat photographer getting snapshots of the carnal carnage that thrilled and amused...
...miles from Bombay. Most of the stars had flown through 11 time zones to be at last month's Bollywood Awards (and to pick up checks ranging from $10,000 to $70,000 for their trouble). Their Indo-American fans, many gorgeously duded up in turbans or silk saris, had come to bond with their homeland's most popular art form. "Every South Asian grows up with some kind of connection to Bollywood," notes Indian writer (and Brooklyn resident) Suketu Mehta. "In certain ways, it's what unites...