Word: sweaters
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...With her scarlet fingernails, Mama San pinches her plunging black V-neck sweater by the shoulder pads, hitches up her matronly bosom and smooths the sweater over her belly. "Forty-two thousand, five hundred, and I'll be losing money," she sighs. "I sent 5,000 home to Lek's parents and 10,000 to Tip's." Conveniently ignoring the silver Mercedes parked in the forecourt outside, she repeats she makes nothing from prostitution. She's in it because she cares. She takes the girls in, puts a roof over their heads. "What can I do? I feel sorry...
...feel kind of new) outfits. Another has them adoring their newborn child in a field of calf-high wild grass. Dusty probably helped Jane through the very natural delivery of their child in the bathing pond just 12 paces behind their home. Swaddled in a hand-knit, teeny-tiny sweater thing, wilderness baby—they’ll probably name him Leaf—will play with deer and know how far to go downstream to catch the best trout...
Accepting the new money is one thing. Getting used to it will take a little longer. For the next few weeks, Europeans will live like tourists in their own countries, pondering price tags and trying to decide if that new sweater or pack of beer is a bargain or a rip-off. Most Italians will no longer be millionaires, and the French will have to cope with the fiddly exchange rate of 6.6 francs to 1[Euro]. ("It's easy," says another Paris greengrocer, displaying his mathematical prowess: "You just divide by 50% and add that to the original, then...
Accepting the new money is one thing. Getting used to it will take a little longer. For the next few weeks, Europeans will live like tourists in their own country, pondering over price tags trying to decide if that new sweater or television set is a bargain or a rip-off. Most Italians will no longer be millionaires, and the French will have to cope with the fiddly exchange rate of 6.56 francs to ?1. ("It's easy," says another Paris greengrocer, displaying his mathematical prowess. "You just divide by 50% and add that to the original, then times...
...prison fortress, a few miles west of Mazar-i-Sharif, CIA agent Johnny ("Mike") Spann was sorting through 300 surrendered Taliban soldiers in an attempt to determine which of them were al-Qaeda members. Dressed in blue jeans, with an AK-47 strapped across the back of his black sweater, Spann passed through several rows of Taliban before crouching in front of a prisoner who had been separated from the rest, a mass of tangled hair and tattered clothes once named John Walker. "What's your name?" Spann asked. There was no response. "Hey," he said, snapping his fingers twice...