Word: talled
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...hopes will get him to Libya. At a corner table in the dimly lit café, Abdi Salan listens intently to the local man, who speaks Arabic in a faint voice. (Abdi Salan's native tongue is Somali, but he understands enough Arabic to get by.) The man is tall, lean and dark, wearing a flowing white Arab robe and headdress. He is flanked by a pair of shorter, younger subordinates in Western clothes. The smugglers agree to help Abdi Salan cross the Sahara to Libya, where he hopes to board a boat to Europe. Up until this point...
There are few sights more frightening than a tall, slightly off-kilter man jumping from desk to desk in a windowless newsroom, leapfrogging monitors and knocking papers and coffee cups to the floor while bassless music blasts from computer speakers. Grumbling from his desk in the corner of the newsroom, Gellis chugs his Diet Coke and yells across the newsroom to comment on a conversation that no one thought he could hear. A huge fan of fierce debates, Gellis sticks his head anywhere, even if he knows the welcoming won’t be warm. When FM gets in content...
...opening frames of the seemingly innocuous romantic comedy Bridget Jones’ Diary. I refer, of course, to the infamous Holiday Sweater incident, when the hapless thirty-something Bridget locks eyes with the dashing Darcy across a crowded Christmas party. She is aghast to discover, however, that the tall, dark and ever-so handsome Darcy has fallen prey to the curse of the festive season-inspired knitwear, sporting a reindeer design sweater that is enough to have Bridget swear off his charms immediately...
When Lucia Joyce was born in 1907, no one knew her father James was a genius. He was just a twentysomething layabout, an Irishman drinking away his exile in the Italian city of Trieste, scribbling unpublished manuscripts. Lucia took after her father: tall, pale and skinny. In Carol Loeb Shloss's Lucia Joyce (Farrar, Straus & Giroux; 560 pages), she emerges as shy but clever, a bright, pretty girl and a witty mimic. Lucia became a dancer. Her work was by all accounts strange and fascinating--"totally subtle and barbaric," one critic wrote. But her promise was never fulfilled...
...parents and I were eating dinner when the cheerleaders rang the doorbell. It was the night before Thanksgiving; the pair of cheerleaders carried posterboard, crepe paper and a three-foot-tall gold mylar balloon shaped like the number seven. When I showed them upstairs to my little brother’s room their platform sneakers thumped delicately, like rubber mallets wielded by diffident elves...