Word: sunlite
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...THAT WITNESSES REMEMBER IS A YOUNG MAN OF medium build with dark hair who wore a tan jacket -- and carried a semiautomatic rifle. He emerged from a brown compact car as commuters waited during an otherwise perfect, sunlit Monday-morning rush hour to turn left into the Central Intelligence Agency's headquarters in Langley, Virginia. Firing in bursts at close range, the man walked up the line of cars, then down, killing two CIA employees and wounding three others. In the chaos of shattered glass, screams and blood, he returned to his car and drove away. Was it a calculated...
Peter Matthiessen is talking on a leisurely Sunday afternoon in a secluded sunlit space at his six-acre compound on Long Island, New York. His shaggy black yakling of a dog, Tess of the Baskervilles, is sitting at his feet, and he is stretching out his long, strikingly lean -- somewhat cranelike -- legs into the sun, picking up clumps of grass as he talks, and now and then turning off the tape recorder with a desultory toe. Already this week he's been to Idaho and Colorado to attend a conference on freedom of speech and the American novel...
...afternoon in Minnesota, near the headwaters of the Mississippi, the season arrived abruptly in a complex sky. Bright sun fired through slabs of blackish clouds -- tremendous lights and darks at work -- and then a dense snow pelted horizontally through the sunlit air. The American weather was transitional, bewildering. In Washington, leaves drifted from the trees in Lafayette Square. Across the street, there was a vacancy in the White House...
...qualities that hit a visitor most forcibly on arrival in Cuba are its beauty and its buoyancy: the crooked streets and sunlit Spanish courtyards of Old Havana; the chrome-polished 1953 Chevrolets that croak along tree-lined streets past faded but still gracious homes of lemon yellow, orange and sky blue; the warm breeze that comes off the sea at night. In contrast to the gray functionalism of other Communist countries, Cuba is, after all, a decidedly Caribbean island of gaiety and light. On balmy nights, the sound of rumbas pulses through Coppelia, the central park, where brightly dressed teenagers...
...ceaseless crash and sighing of the sea. Behind, tall redwoods climbing up the mountainside. Off to one side, hot mineral baths laid down on ground once sacred to the local Indians. And out in the distance, along the blue horizons, the spouting of a distant whale. There, on a sunlit lawn high above the sea, a score of visitors assemble at first light. Retired schoolteachers, lay therapists, dentists from Ohio -- all move their limbs slowly, to the sound of a flute, through the Tai Chi motions of fire, water and gold...