In a feverish state you toss underneath the bed sheets, straining to find a comfortable position on the rigid mattress. As you finally settle down, light from the screen beside you pummels your eyelids and you swiftly twist away to face the curtains. Staring at them intently, you dare them to try and aggravate you further. They remain still in response. The blue filter of night sweeps across the room and wraps you in its tranquility and quiet. You begin to find repose as an electronic echo lulls you into slumber. Yet just as you are about to slip into sleep, you feel a gentle breath against your skin. It is accompanied by a faint whisper, “Good luck,” the voice wishes. The wind exhales across your face and the sun kisses you on the check. …show more content…
The shade cast by these tightly packed buildings robs you of your shadow and leaves you to walk the streets alone. You begin to stroll down the sidewalk rounding several corners as you follow the maze of twists and turns, a contrast to the supposed grid. Graffitti like tattoos emblazon the city’s skin, accessorizing its walls with cascades of colour. Debris from the lunchtime rush lies scattered on the ground neglected and overlooked, like the toys of a child forgotten within moments. You approach a crossroads and decide to plow on ahead. As you do so a little red man leaps up to his duty and glowers down at your moving feet, imploring you to stop. You ignore his instructions and stride across the tarmac gaining confidence as you go. You pass by a boutique’s window and the mannequins seem to come alive at your presence. They drape their cashmere scarfs around their necks and throw their leather jackets over their shoulders. They smirk at you, their very expression trying to compel you to buy their products, to go inside. Your heart tugs, you can’t seem to remember what it was you were doing. Was it important? You shake your head to clear it of the cobwebs forming and march, head down past the window. You ignore their begging calls and just keep going. You continue to wander along aimlessly without direction, just following the …show more content…
The linoleum squeaks in protest as you shuffle along, crying out in pain. Metal lockers line the hallway, mimicking the watchful gaze of a teacher's glare. You shy away from the edges and choose to walk out in the open, cautious of the doorways and the shadows. You draw near to a stairwell and slide your hands along the rail as you travel up a floor. You continue to trail your fingers across the walls, soaking in the school’s history through your fingertips. A scarlet door of monumental proportions commands your attention from the other side of the hallway. Without realising it, your hand lands on an old fashioned door knob, itching to find out what lies beyond its wooden panels. You twist the metal sphere and transition into the room. The lack of colour hits you first, the room empty of emotion. The space an identical tessellation of muted tones and mundane furniture. The chairs fixed onto their desks like puzzle pieces and as you slide onto one you find you're a perfect match. Your fist sinks slowly into your cheek, closing your left eye shut as you embrace the atmosphere of boredom. With a sigh you look towards the front, every movement lethargic. Chalk is scrawled across the blackboard, an indecipherable code few ever learn or remember. You squint your eyes in hopes of reading what it says, but it all remains fuzzy. As your vision returns to focus you glimpse a shape
While walking downtown with her girlfriend, the author describes as, “[her] heart began to skip every other beat, pounding, pounding, pounding … [as she stood] paralyzed like a frightened, little jackrabbit.” Repetition of the word “pounding” in the text develops a fast pace, indicating the urgency and panic felt by the author; terms such as paralyzed are utilized to emphasize the urgent, panicked mood. However, sanguine moods still persist throughout the narrative. For example, in the opening paragraph the author describes how she, “watch[ed] the golden dots of morning light glide across [her] ceiling, [and she] melted into a feeling of peace specific to the freedom of early summer.” Terms such as “golden,” “glide,” “peace,” and “early summer” help the reader detect a placid mood in the text, directing the reader towards the state of contentment the author feels surrounding her relationship. Mood differentiations in the text, from the urgency of the narrator’s walk downtown to the tranquil peace of the narrator’s relationship, indicate the contrasting aspects of the LGBT+ community, both in terms of the impending fear of violence, and the love that is the
I bolted through the clear door of a small, earth-colored high school, practically slamming the door behind me. Catching my breath, I stood in the school, completely drenched and shivering. Rain pounded the clear door behind me. I stood awkwardly on a mat in front of the doorway, trying not to get the floor wet. I gazed around the hall in front of me.
“I wanted to get out and walk eastward toward the park through the soft twilight but each time I tried to go I became entangled in some wild strident argument which pulled me back, as if with ropes, into my chair. Yet high over the city our line of yellow windows must have contributed their share of human secrecy to the casual watcher in the darkening streets, and I was him too, looking up and wondering. I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.
My feet planted firm on the ground as I bit the inside of my cheeks to feel something. My pigtails and gray uniform forgotten along with my surroundings as I just watched death do his work. I didn’t feel like a kid anymore. The once peaceful scene turned into a mass of chaotic moments as soon as metal clashed on metal, and the remains of glass littered the floor of the street in front of the fenced gates of my school. My peers screamed loudly but the sound of the crash replayed in my head, but worst of all is that I saw the blond hair of the woman cover her face like a veil tainted red. My teacher ushered us to wait inside yet my mind was numb and my thoughts blurred as I heard the cries of the adults.
As I traverse the overgrown meadow, the impressible soil sticks to my worn shoes. It is dark, chalky, and alluvial. From it, life has flourished, unhindered by barriers of concrete and asphalt. The grass is coarse, and high reaching; the spruce trees tower solemnly. They are sentinels, guarding the ravine from the commotion of the city. They offer protection from any unwelcome reminders of the pandemonium and instability that await me upon my return to civilization. Beyond the ravine is an endless mixture of harsh, discordant noise. There is a steady sprawl of vehicles, construction sites, and sirens. Cement and rebar dominate the landscape. Everywhere, people hurry frantically, impatiently, overwhelmingly – all in an attempt to fulfill their
This is evident in the first person“I rise into the mirror.stow the book and wash bag and city clothes” this slowing tonal shift suggests that the persona feels a sense of renewal and content with leaving behind the city life. This renewal is not just personal, but also universal, reflecting the potential for all individuals to find liberation and transformation in the ordinary. Ultimately,
The night was tempestuous and my emotions were subtle, like the flame upon a torch. They blew out at the same time that my sense of tranquility dispersed, as if the winds had simply come and gone. The shrill scream of a young girl ricocheted off the walls and for a few brief seconds, it was the only sound that I could hear. It was then that the waves of turmoil commenced to crash upon me. It seemed as though every last one of my senses were succumbed to disperse from my reach completely. As everything blurred, I could just barely make out the slam of a door from somewhere alongside me and soon, the only thing that was left in its place was an ominous silence.
One you enter the classroom, to the right there is a classroom bathroom and a teacher’s desk. To your left there is a bookshelf for word containers with a bulletin and chalk board behind this. On the bulletin board the student’s art works is on display. On the chalk board, there is the student’s nametags. Beside the word container shelf, there is a smartboard then another chalk board. On this chalk board, there is a calendar. Written on the board is the date and the season. After morning announcements, the students read, “Today is March 24, 2016 and the season is spring,” in unison. There is a TV sitting on a shelf. They use this TV for the morning announcements and to display a clock during the day. In this corner there is a library and rocking chairs for the students to sit in. Then there are three tall shelves where there are several blocks and worksheets for children to work on their math. In front of this, there are two small size tables with plastic letters in a container set up on these tables. Here students can work on their spelling. There are two computers following this. After the computers, there is a science area. There are more child sized shelves with different animal lifecycles on them, science books, and more. By these are student tables. The students normally sit on the blue carpet but this is an area students are able to work at. To the right of the
The smell of morning dew calms me on my dreaded journey to the factory. As I stumble along the rocky path, wishing, just wishing I could go and enjoy the little time I have left as a child. I approach the old structure and the sounds of banging and yells surround my bony structure, but I continue. I hesitantly walked towards the building, making me stop before entering thinking “Do I really need to go in?”. A tall dark figure with an expression on his face that can only describe anger yells at me to get inside or I won't get my dinner and shoves me inside.
“Tossing their heads in a sprightly dance.” said William Wordsworth. “It seems wonderful that so frail and lovely a plant has such power over human hearts.” said John Muir. Why did they say this? What does it mean? These were said in writing to describe their experience with something remarkable.
Upon arrival into the jungle of vast buildings, the first thing noticed is the mobbed streets filled with taxi cabs and cars going to and fro in numerous directions, with the scent of exhaust surfing through the air. As you progress deeper into the inner city and exit your vehicle, the aroma of the many restaurants passes through your nostrils and gives you a craving for a ?NY Hot Dog? sold by the street venders on the corner calling out your name. As you continue your journey you are passed by the ongoing flow of pedestrians talking on their cell phones and drinking a Starbucks while enjoying the city. The constant commotion of conversing voices rage up and down the streets as someone calls for a fast taxi. A mixed sound of various music styles all band together to form one wild tune.
I awake to lukewarm water dripping down my forehead from a damp towel. I feel a thick liquid against my back. I scan the area, Unfamiliar. I find myself lying in a cot in a filthy room. The sight room itself was depressing, not that it was in extremely bad conditions but it was all…brown, the kind of brown that makes you feel depressed. It reeked of fish and motor oil, one of the queerest combinations of scents I have encountered. My ears start to pick up the deep monotones of a man speaking in other room. In my drowsy state I couldn’t make out exactly what he said but I did manage to g...
We all remember these grey gloomy days filled with a feeling of despair that saddens the heart from top to bottom. Even though, there may be joy in one’s heart, the atmosphere turns the soul cold and inert. Autumn is the nest of this particular type of days despite its hidden beauty. The sun seems foreign, and the nights are darker than usual enveloped by a thrill that generates chills to travel through the spine leaving you with a feeling of insecurity. Nevertheless, the thinnest of light will always shine through the deepest darkness; in fact, darkness amplifies the beauty and intensity of a sparkle. There I found myself trapped within the four walls of my house, all alone, surrounded by the viscosity of this type of day. I could hear some horrifying voices going through my mind led by unappealing suicidal thought. Boredom had me encaged, completely at its mercy. I needed to go far away, and escape from this morbid house which was wearing me down to the grave. Hope was purely what I was seeking in the middle of the city. Outside, the air was heavy. No beautifully rounded clouds, nor sunrays where available to be admired through the thick grey coat formed by the mist embedded in the streets. Though, I felt quite relieved to notice that I was not alone to feel that emptiness inside myself as I was trying to engage merchant who shown similar “symptoms” of my condition. The atmosphere definitely had a contagious effect spreading through the hearts of every pedestrian that day. Very quickly, what seemed to be comforting me at first, turned out to be deepening me in solitude. In the city park, walking ahead of me, I saw a little boy who had long hair attached with a black bandana.
My childhood was a playground for imagination. Joyous nights were spent surrounded by family at my home in Brooklyn, NY. The constantly shaded red bricks of my family’s unattached town house located on West Street in Gravesend, a mere hop away from the beach and a short walk to the commotion of Brooklyn’s various commercial areas. In the winter, all the houses looked alike, rigid and militant, like red-faced old generals with icicles hanging from their moustaches. One townhouse after the other lined the streets in strict parallel formation, block after block, interrupted only by my home, whose fortunate zoning provided for a uniquely situa...
Walking, there is no end in sight: stranded on a narrow country road for all eternity. It is almost dark now. The clouds having moved in secretively. When did that happen? I am so far away from all that is familiar. The trees are groaning against the wind’s fury: when did the wind start blowing? Have I been walking for so long that time hysterically slipped away! The leaves are rustling about swirling through the air like discarded post-it notes smashing, slapping against the trees and blacktop, “splat-snap”. Where did the sun go? It gave the impression only an instant ago, or had it been longer; that it was going to be a still and peaceful sunny day; has panic from hunger and walking so long finally crept in? Waking up this morning, had I been warned of the impending day, the highs and lows that I would soon face, and the unexpected twist of fate that awaited me, I would have stayed in bed.