Приклади речень англійська зі словом "tangle"

Don't pull, or you'll tangle the threads.
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"I have now in my hands," my companion said, confidently, "all the threads which have formed such a tangle. There are, of course details to be filled in, but I am as certain of all the main facts."
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We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands.
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Many mangrove forests can be recognized by their dense tangle of prop roots that make the trees appear to be standing on stilts above the water.
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This tangle of roots allows the trees to handle the daily rise and fall of tides, which means that most mangroves get flooded at least twice per day. The roots also slow the movement of tidal waters, causing sediments to settle out of the water and build up the muddy bottom.
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I wish I could tangle your hair into beautiful braids.
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It takes two to tangle.
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My head has become a tangle of confusion.
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My niece Lucia likes to tangle my hair.
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My charging cable is in a tangle.
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In the 1990s, well into the computer era, personal computers were still unappealing beige boxes with clunky keys and a tangle of cables.
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The new report, by a commission of experts from 13 countries, highlights the tangle of contradictions in today’s global food situation.
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It's Lulu Island, the 26th of July of 2025. It begins as always—with sunlight glinting off sidewalks and the easy rhythm of habit. I walk to Tim Hortons, a modern pilgrimage. The oat-milk coffee, a small rite. Gary is there again—Gary the Cantonese, as I've come to call him in my inner haiku. We talk over steaming cups and breakfast sandwiches, meandering from Japan to Thailand to the war. I tell him: "One week Tokyo, one week Okinawa." He nods. We agree: the taste of a place is its soul. We smile at the thought of izakaya clamor and the smell of fish sauce. Then history unfolds like an old film reel. In the Philippines, my mother—a child—was given a toy chick by a Japanese soldier, who spoke of returning, of marriage. Gary speaks of rivers crossed under fear, in "Occupied Hong Kong" in the shadow of Empire. We don't mention everything. I don't mention my alternate histories—the Dai Tōa Kyōeiken, shimmering in some parallel world. The unspoken sometimes speaks loudest. Yesterday, the forest of South Arm Park. I wandered there in contemplative silence. A lone ice cream truck rolled by, blaring "Music Box Dancer"—a tune too cheerful for the tangle of emotion in my chest. / ice cream melody— / childhood ghosts stirring / in the shade of firs
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