Word: slenderness
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...whirls to confront the semicircle of editors at her morning story conference. "What's the word we want?" she asks. Through owlish goggles she scrutinizes their faces, as if seeing them for the first time. Before anyone can answer, she darts to her chair and provocatively settles her slender black-stockinged legs on a cluttered coffee table. She sits stiffly, ladylike. Her expressive hands, with their buffed, not polished nails, beat the air. "Older women of our generation have been described as depressed, sad, menopausal, decrepit, unproductive," she blurts. "God, I feel I'm running through a maze of negative...
Here was a man out of place. A slender man dressed in a stylish business suit, he sat by himself, night after night, in the bustling entryway of the Dunlevy Milbank Center in the middle of Harlem. His narrow face bore a trusting smile that masked a dogged purpose. He was trying to teach a course on human sexuality for neighborhood parents, and often nobody came. But he kept showing up. Michael Carrera, professor and prophet, understood that as a white man and an outsider he needed the parents' support if he wanted to come to their community to help...
Those same fractures undermined Evans' slender hopes in last week's general election. Mimicking white Democrats' attempts to override the 1983 primary by mounting an independent challenge to Washington, Evans ran under the banner of the Harold Washington Party. Jackson refused to endorse Daley, who had not actively supported Washington's earlier bids. Instead, Jackson backed Evans -- thereby opening himself to charges of putting race ahead of party loyalty. But turnout in black wards went down. To win, Evans needed at least 15% of the white vote; he got 7%. Daley attracted 8% of black voters, but his richly financed...
...Cyclone fence and metal bars encircle the stage. Like a caged animal, a slender young woman in black paces back and forth. Suddenly, she rattles the prison door, her pale features exposed by the spotlight. "Three hundred forty-nine days! Three hundred forty-nine days!" she screams. "Bite on your hat, anything to keep from sobbing!" Few in the audience at Moscow's Sovremennik Theater stifle the emotion inspired by such searing scenes from Eugenia Ginzburg's memoirs of the Gulag, Journey into the Whirlwind. An innocent victim of the Stalinist purges, the heroine endures humiliating interrogations, strip searches...
...match. Onstage, he will show up in an organza suit designed by Adelle Lutz, which, turning transparent under the stage lights, is obviously meant to summon visions of the oversize whites in which Lutz's husband David Byrne cavorted through Stop Making Sense. Stipe (the name rhymes with the slender-billed bird that good ole boys send gullible slickers out to hunt) devotes himself to his eccentricities, currycombing them until they gleam like attributes of genius. He has his own tour bus, separate from the rest of the band and crew, "because I need windows," and because he rarely listens...