Word: slittings
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...today as they were a generation ago. But they are being crowded out by some altogether different scenes, a collection of photos not found in any Chamber of Commerce travel brochure. Here is a picture of a policeman leaning over the body of a Miamian whose throat has been slit and wallet emptied. There is a sleek V-planed speedboat, stripped of galleys and bunks and loaded with a half-ton of marijuana, skimming across the waters of Biscayne Bay. Here are a handful of ragged Cuban refugees, living in a tent pitched beneath a highway overpass...
...what does a Radcliffe Joan of Arc do till the day of her martyrdom? There are no prison walls on which she can mark the passing days with a bent nail; only the Harvard Coop Calendar. There is not high, slit-like window through which the sun can halo her as she sits in her cell; only the noise and clatter of Briggs Hall. There are no guards to whom she can confide her visions...
...Tower of the Winds, built just before Galileo's time, was to house the Vatican's own astronomy laboratory, known as the Meridian Room. Here the progress of the light of the sun, on its eternal course around the earth, was measured as it entered through a slit in the wall. By the mid-1500s, the Julian calendar worked out by astronomers in Alexandria in 45 B.C. had fallen grievously into error. The spring solstices, for example, kept occurring two weeks early. So the same Vatican that denied Copernican theory used data compiled by a Jesuit...
...LOOK AT HIM, you would never suspect what he has gone through. Few visible scars betray his ordeal. His socks and shoes conceal the most obvious reminders--an extensive collection of burns on his legs and feet, which were slit open and then cauterized with smoldering cigarettes. Of course, maybe if you looked closely, you might notice his crooked jaw, which protrudes unevenly, expecially when he indulges in a rare smile. His hunched shoulders and shuffling gait--the drooping posture of one who faced prison torture for over a year--call more attention to themselves, especially as he walks around...
...summer faded into September and I began to pack for school. I felt little regret over leaving my job behind. I daydreamed about tearful farewells between the tweed blazers and silky slit-skirts at the bank and wistfully vowed that next summer would be different. Maybe if I wear my blazer and smoke a pipe. . . .CrimsonWilliam F. Hammond...