People: Feb. 2, 1981

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"It was an uncontrollable, instantaneous vibration" that struck Belgian Artist Jean Verame, 44, in the Sinai Desert. The Sinai's relief is crazy," he says, "its density is fabulous." He simply had to paint it. But not on canvas. The artist's plan was to decorate the desert —specifically, the 5-sq.-mi. Plateau of Hallaoui—with patterns and fields of cobalt blue paint. "Blue," he explains, "because this color does not exist on the earth's surface." Despite impressive credentials —Verame had already festooned a dried riverbed in France and a mile of the Corsican coast—it took the artist two years to persuade authorities to let him undertake his "mad dream." Finally, he got the O.K. from Egyptian President Anwar Sadat. This month, after twelve weeks of creative effort with as many tons of paint, the "Sinai Peace Junction" opened to mixed reviews: Cairo's environmentalists disapprove, but "the local Bedouins," says Verame, "love it. Blue, they say, chases away the evil eye."

Their marital troubles have filled the gossip columns for years. Stories of his womanizing. Tales of her drinking. His cold-shouldering her in public. Her decision in 1978 to move into her own Boston apartment. Yet when political duty called, Joan, 44, and Ted Kennedy, 48, had stood together: on the 1980 campaign trail, and last week, at what Ted had hoped would be his own Inauguration. With the exception of Rose Kennedy, 90, who was informed early Wednesday, and a few intimates, no one expected the announcement they were to issue 24 hours after Ronald Reagan took office. After 22 years, the couple had decided "to terminate" their marriage, as the brief statement put it, "with regret yet with respect and consideration for each other." No mention was made of where or when divorce papers would be riled or who would have legal custody of Patrick, 13, who lives with his father (Kara, 20. and Edward Jr., 19. are legally adults). Such matters, said the statement, "we intend to resolve as friends."

The man perched on the ninth-floor ledge of a Los Angeles building was not preparing to float like a butterfly. Police, a clergyman and a psychologist tried for two hours to talk him out of jumping, but to no avail. In short, this looked like a job for Muhammad Ali. At least that is what one of Ali's p.r. men thought when he happened on the scene. Moments after being summoned, the former heavyweight champ arrived in his personal emergency vehicle—a two-tone brown Rolls-Royce—lights flashing. He ascended to a window near the desperate 21-year-old, a black Navy veteran, and began to rap: "You're my brother ' said the Greatest, "I love you, and I couldn't lie to you. I want you to come home with me, meet some friends of mine." That seemed to convince the young man that life held some promise. He opened a door to the ledge, and Ali helped him to safety.