Sentences with phrase «flowing passing move»

99 % of the time, I felt like I had very little space to manoeuvre in and create nice, flowing passing moves.

Not exact matches

The midfielder finished a flowing, passing move in the 21st minute of the Super Sunday clash to leave Everton in 16th, two points above the relegation zone, ahead of the international break.

Real capitalised on the let - off and were soon 2 - 0 up after 63 minutes when Casemiro intercepted a pass on the halfway line to set Benzema free, who in turn slid Isco through to play a first - time pass for the Brazilian to round off a flowing move.

Ozil then played a key role in Oxlade - Chamberlain winning the penalty by freeing the winger in space, before playing the final pass in a flowing move that was finished by Giroud for the fourth goal.

Based on their observations, the duo describe three states of traffic on busy highways: «free flow,» in which traffic is light enough that drivers can freely change lanes and pass other cars; «synchronized flow,» in which the roads are so clogged that drivers can't pass, but can still move; and jams.

These can be summarized as: the way his picture moves towards the edge of the canvas in centrifugal waves filling to the brim; his completely impulsive use of pigment as a material, generally thick, slow - flowing, viscous, with a sensual attitude toward it, as if it were the primordial material, with deep and vibratory color; the absence of any effacing of the tracks bearing the imprint of the energy passing over the surface.

, you are lying on the floor of your place looking up, a small draft runs through the room, between the door and the window, and all things seem perfectly still, wind only disturbs concrete in imperceptible ways, or it may take millions of years to be noticed and, as the air runs through the space, all your plants move and all is animated and all is alive somehow, and here are the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me, and that wind upon your plants is the common air that bathes the globe, and we have no ambitions of universalism, and I'm glad we don't, but the particles of air bring traces of pollen and are charged with electricity, desert sand, maybe sea water, and these particles were somewhere else before they were dragged here, and their route will not end by the door of this house, and if we tell each other stories, one can imagine that they might have been bathed by this same air, regrouped and recombined, recharged as a vehicle for sound, swirling as it moves, bringing the sound of a drum, like that Kabuki story where a fox recognizes the voice of its parents as a girl plays a drum made out of their skin, or any other event, and yet I always felt your work never tells stories, I tend to think that narrative implies a past tense, even if that past was just five seconds ago, one second ago was already the past, and human memory is irrelevant in geological time, plants and fish know not what tomorrow will bring, neither rocks nor metal do, but we all live here now, and we all need visions and we all need dreams, and as long as your metal sculptures vibrate they are always in the Present, and their past is a material truth alien to narrative, but well, maybe narrative does not imply a past tense at all and they are writing their own story while they gently move and breathe, and maybe nothing was really still before the wind came in, passing through the window as if through an irrational portal to make those plants dance, but everything was already moving and breathing in near complete silence, and if you're focused enough you can feel the pulse of a concrete wall and you can feel the tectonic movements of the earth, and you can hear the magma flowing under our feet and our bones crackling like a wild fire, and you can see the light of fireflies reflected in polished metal, and there is nothing magical about that, it is just the way things are, and sometimes we have to raise our voice because the music is too loud and let your clothes move to a powerful bass, sound waves and bright lights, powerful like the sun, blinding us if we stare for too long, but isn't it the biggest sign of love, like singing to a corn field, and all acts of kindness that are not pitiful nor utilitarian, that are truly horizontal as everything around us is impregnated with the deadliest violence, vertical and systemic, poisonous, and sometimes you just want to feel the sun burning your skin and look for life in all things declared dead, a kind of vitality that operates like corrosion, strong as the wind near the sea, transforming all things,

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The molecule will first use the heat energy in expansion and on cooling will again condense and sink because heavier, and it will cool when its heat expanded volume flows to colder air which absorbs the heat, the internal kinetic energy of vibration, which if strong enough will pass that heat to another colder (which is why visible light is not a thermal energy, it is not powerful enough to move a molecule of matter into vibration, it takes the bigger heat wave, longwave infrared, aka thermal infrared called that because it is the wavelength of heat)-- that is how convective heating warms the fluid gas air in a room, by circulation, in the rise and fall of molecules as they expand and condense, not by heat energy propelling molecules to hit other molecules..

At one point the police even had to appeal to the organisers to ask the assembled throng to move back to allow the free flow traffic to pass.