Word: window
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...circle around me and just stare. The trip was quite pleasant; off the boat you could see pagodas in the middle of nowhere, clusters of thatched huts on stilts, and old-fashioned fishing boats. The only thing was that the monks insisted on smoking cheroots while keeping the windows closed, we figured so that they could really feel the difference from the deck and get their money's worth. I locked horns in a head-to-head battle with one old padre, opening my window every time he shut it, and finally leaving one arm hanging out. Hell, I paid...
...stared at the window, tapping her heel impatiently as the train came to a stop in between stations. The boy kept jabbing his friend just above his Jams shorts and the elderly man nodded off to sleep. A baby started crying and its mother wiped the perspiration from its brow. Through the thick air, the conductor announced, "We ah experiencing a delay. Sorry for the inconvenience. A train should be along soon to push us to Kendall...
...elderly man lowered his newspaper and stared at her. The baby commenced wailing again, its mother sighed and stared out the window of the un-moving train. The girl shook her head at her watch. The auxiliary train came up behind the filled train and as it moved towards Kendall Square, the boy said, "Man, this is really rotten service...I can't believe she wanted us to pay for it. That just ain't fair...
...disease is unknown. The main reason for the slipups, explains Chalmers, is that the existing blood- screening test detects antibodies to the AIDS virus rather than the virus itself. Since someone infected with the AIDS virus may take several weeks to develop antibodies, he says, "there is a dangerous window of time" when the test will fail to detect infection...
City dwellers think of nature "as a garden, or a view framed by a window," he writes, but peasants and sailors know better. "Nature is energy and struggle. It is what exists without any promise . . . fearsomely indifferent . . . It is within this bleak natural context that beauty is encountered, and the encounter is by its nature sudden and unpredictable . . . This is why it moves us." After arguing that "art is always a form of prayer," Berger closes with a quick touch of irony: "The white wooden bird is wafted by the warm air rising from the stove in the kitchen where...