Word: wasteland
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...Barrow Island, a cyclone-swept wasteland off Western Australia that until now has supported only kangaroos, lizards and one lonely tree, an international team of roustabouts is drilling with intensity and anticipation. The Western Australian government last month declared Barrow to be an economically viable oilfield, expects that by 1968 it will be producing 20,000 bbl. daily for a group made up of Shell, Texaco, Standard Oil of California and Ampol, an Australian firm...
Comedians and novelists alike attested tirelessly to the aromatic glories of the Brighton Beach Express and the Gowanus Canal, the beery, cheery heartland of dock-wallopers and sailors' broads and Yiddishe mammas, the wasteland of peeling tenements where a Tree Grew. Brooklyn was where every uprooted native from Al Capone to Barbra Streisand was congratulated on being from...
...most spectacular U.S. engineering project of the war is Cam Ranh Bay, a 15-mile-long, five-mile-wide deep-water harbor 190 miles north of Saigon. Seven months ago it was a pristine, sun-blanched wasteland; today it is a frenetic modern port that rivals Charleston's in size. There, last week, building supplies, ammunition and barrels of fuel were stacked endlessly on the beaches near rows of new ware houses and barracks. On a flattened hilltop, antiaircraft Hawk missiles stood at the ready. Nearby, giant C-130 cargo planes and F-4 Phantom jet fighters returning from...
...bulk of the Indian people would thank him for relieving them of a great anxiety." Ayub concluded that it was impossible to reach an agreement with the ambivalent and indirect Shastri. They settled into a tenuous coexistence that was punctuated by gunfire earlier this year in the border wasteland of the Rann of Kutch. Britain's Prime Minister Harold Wilson settled that one, bringing Ayub and Shastri to cautious compromise at the Commonwealth Prime Ministers meeting in London last June...
...excitement has progressively decelerated, and in the present collection of 41 short stories Moravia has attained what might most charitably be described as a creative pause. His milieu is comfortable, upper-middle-class Italy. His characters are dead souls, stifled with boredom and loneliness, who wander their existential wasteland groaning under the stylish burdens of too much money, too much leisure, too little heart. The women are shallow, complacent, cruel; the men are feeble, nervous, dependent; all fritter away their lives in a little hectic experiment that the protagonists like to call love. Moravia calls it torture, but he believes...