Word: smoked
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...With salmon and wood smoke fragrant in the endless summer evening, amid wet socks and waders and red rubber fishing gloves, Palin tells TIME, "I cannot predict what's going to happen. I don't know what doors will be open or closed by then. I was telling Todd today, I was saying, 'Man, I wish we could predict the next fish run so that we know when to be out on the water.' We can't predict the next fish run, much less what's going to happen...
...streets resembled an urban war zone, the air hazy from tear gas and the smoke of burning trash heaps set afire by protesters. But despite the overwhelming security force and the shutdown of all mobile networks, the protesters seemed undeterred. With many in the crowd making peace signs with their hands and chanting "Allahu akbar" (God is great), one woman in her 50s standing on Kargar Street motioned to them and said proudly, "This is Iran." (Read "Beaten Back, Iran's Opposition Looks to Reform from Within...
...windows (Blanche says the carpenter who built the place was "some hippie" who put in all the windows). They have two cottages - both also with bright orange doors - at the end of the driveway. One is a type of sauna with a wood-burning stove. The other is a smoke shack for fish. Their catch of the day is hanging from a clothing line strung from the shack to a tree. The driveway is littered with boots, gray-and-red-tipped fishing socks, waders, scooters, tricycles and a green yoga ball with bunny ears for kids to bounce...
...Then she shows me the smoke shack. "This is usually the subsistence catch," she says, gesturing to the gutted, smoked fish drying in the 10:45 p.m. sun, "which means it's just going to be for personal use." Todd hands me a frozen pack of smoked salmon from a freezer. "And it's the best-tasting stuff in the world after a couple of weeks of drying. People then store it away and eat it through the winter. But they smoke it there and dry it here...
...this sweltering Central American capital like firecrackers. Amid the onslaught of bullets on Sunday afternoon, hundreds of protesters ran for their lives, taking cover behind cinder-block walls or running into the homes of kindly residents. Five, 10, 15 minutes passed, and the automatic rifles kept going. Finally the smoke cleared to reveal the carnage: parts of the skull and brains of a teenage boy lay on the concrete; a bleeding man was being dragged unconscious into a pickup truck; a third victim hobbled with medics into an ambulance, a bullet stuck...