Word: stroll
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...what Paulin may say when he comes. The right to free speech protects people from being silenced by official power. Harvard Law School, for example, is tossing around the idea of a campus speech code, and free speech activists would find an excellent cause for themselves by taking a stroll north of the Science Center...
...actress finds Blanche's seductiveness in her musical voice, the practiced irony of her inflections, the remembered gentilities of a Southern belle long since cracked, her light-footed stroll through the huge, moving set in Nunn's sumptuous, pristine production (in the auditorium next to the one holding "The Coast of Utopia" at the National). Nunn is to stage-direction what Sinatra was to lyric-singing: He's a great reader, finding the undertone in every phrase and pause in the text, and translating that understanding into space, time and gesture. Because Essie Davis impresses more as Blanche's sister...
...that "people in Oslo only like it because of the parts that make them feel like they're not in the city" - so green space takes up acres of Oslo's land. Across the road from the Munch Museum are the University of Oslo's botanical gardens. A stroll along its verdant paths and past the university's museums will bring you to Rodeløkka, a slice of small-town Norway plunked into the heart of the city. The neighborhood's narrow, hilly streets are lined with some of Oslo's best samples of Norwegian village architecture - clapboard cottages...
...half hour later, Beck’s low-key stroll onto stage was met with a deserved crescendo of shouting. But without a word he turned down the mood by launching into a slew of downers, from the old surreal folkie “Pay No Mind” to the new love lament, “Guess I’m Doing Fine.” Perched on a stool in a bland shirt and tie, Beck shunned the goofiness that waxed falsetto on Axl Rose and tossed out two-dollar quips during this summer’s solo...
...brief stroll down Hanover Street in the North End would fool a casual observer into believing that Boston is rife with authentic Italian restaurants, each serving a credible interpretation of home cooking straight from the mother country. They would have you fancy that grandma is cooking in the kitchen, whipping up regional dishes from her youth, while her husband jovially greets customers out front and the grandkids wash plates and bus tables. But Boston is a far cry from Italy, and save a few notable exceptions, these restaurants are tourist traps, offering identical menus with adulterated American creations such...