Word: woode
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...place in a bustling indoor-outdoor marketplace. Outside, stands offer groceries and producer. Inside, the market is divided into two areas, in one, Jamaicans purchase clothing and choose from among rows upon rows of shoes. In the other, tourists barter with the small-time entrepreneurs who hawk handmade jewelry, wood, carvings, along with T-shirts, key chains, and other hackneyed souvenirs...
Even the famously middlebrow Wal-Mart chain is getting in on the act. The retailer is designing an "environmental store" in Lawrence, Kansas, that could become the prototype for all future Wal-Marts and for retrofitting the chain's existing stores. The retail outlet will be built mostly of wood and concrete block -- materials that require 33% less energy to produce than steel -- and feature an elaborate, high-efficiency lighting system enhanced by skylights that use holographic films to spread daylight evenly over the space. The store will have its own recycling center so that shipping boxes never have...
...Finn established not only the quest theme for 20th century American literature but also the matter and manner of kids' movies. Sommers' brisk, pretty version of Huck's wayward youth gets most of Twain's words right, even if the music sounds like a TV jingle. Huck (plucky Elijah Wood) eludes his troglodyte father (Ron Perlman, doing an uncanny Tom Waits impression) for an eventful honeymoon on a raft with Nigger Jim (just plain Jim here, in a nicely balanced performance by Courtney B. Vance). Huck's runaway mouth gets them in trouble, and his wit gets them...
...accused is incapable of premeditating a murder. "No, gentlemen, this skull here holds no plans," the defense claims. "What you see here is a thing . . . to hold the handle of a plow, a thing to load your bales of cotton, a thing to dig your ditches, to chop your wood, to pull your corn." In effect, Jefferson is not condemned to die like a man but be destroyed like a beast. Worse still, he believes that he is no better than a dumb animal...
...that far-gone March night, when the score was 30-30, coach Marvin Wood told Bobby to dribble around a while, then see if he could get his jump shot off just before the buzzer. The clock ticked down. Bobby was in the sweet spot where he had practiced the jump shot a hundred or a thousand times. Then he was in the air as high as he could go, his right arm raised with the ball touching the heel of his hand and resting like a cloud on his fingertips. He flexed his wrist, and he felt the ball...