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New york city public transportation essay
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Growing up in New York is fascinating as it seems in the movies. Herald Square at 34th Street is by far my most favorite place to be. The Thanksgiving and Christmas decorations always intrigued me with the bright multicolored lights of magnificent colors that the mind can’t comprehend. Guess I have a liking for sparkling lights to shine upon the dark pavement I walk on so my journey can be safe. Similarly to sparkling light works, the stars light up the sky as well. Star gazing has been a hobby and interest of mine since I was about the young age of four. New York has everything a person may seek. Proper health care, shows at Broadway productions, the variety of jobs, and many other benefits are found at my home, New York City. Although, despite all of these benefits, we don’t get to see …show more content…
I walked along the green, freshly cut grass which had smelled like it was mowed minutes before. Darkness engulfed me which prompted me to use my phone as a flashlight to make sure that my path was clear so I wouldn’t fall and break my fragile bones; would be hysterical to my friend who came with me but it would be horrible for me. After the walk, I and my friend Nadia lay down on the grass and what I saw changed my life forever. The cathartic experience had brought tears into my eyes. I never saw anything which was closely comparable to the clear sky. I was in awe since I lived in the city all my life; venturing out to an unknown place was a feat on its own but it was indeed doable. I had no lights bothering my view and I just lay there admiring the stars. Oh the luck, I picked a good night to be there too. I saw shooting stars and the moon was a waxing crescent then too. I was always told in life that beauty is found in the ordinary; tangible or intangible. These examples can be human beings, man-made or natural structures, and even the celestial objects
When you have a clear night sky, it looks so nice and peaceful.
By first referencing “Starry Night”, a painting generally considered to be undoubtedly beautiful, Bogard establishes that the natural magnificence of stars in a dark sky is definite. A world absent of excess artificial light could potentially hold the key to a grand, glorious night sky like Van Gogh’s according to the writer. This urges the readers to weigh the disadvantages of our world consumed by unnatural, vapid lighting. Furthermore, Bogard’s alludes to Paris as “the famed ‘city of light’”. He then goes on to state how Paris has taken steps to exercise more sustainable lighting practices. By doing this, Bogard creates a dichotomy between Paris’ traditionally alluded-to name and the reality of what Paris is becoming – no longer “the city of light”, but moreso “the city of light…before 2 AM”. This furthers his line of argumentation because it shows how steps can be and are being taken to preserve natural darkness. It shows that even a city that is literally famous for being constantly lit can practically address light pollution in a manner that preserves the beauty of both the city itself and the universe as a
I was born with an inherent fascination for all things celestial. Ever since I was young, I have been staring at the night sky trying to find constellations, or using my juvenile imagination to create my own. My efforts to find, view, and mentally catalogue everything the heavenly bodies have to offer has led me to employ some over-the-top measures, but the most extreme of them all might be the night I stayed awake through the wee hours of the morning to catch a glimpse of a meteor shower. Over the course of an entire year, the memory of this stupefying event is still as lucent and vivid as it was that very night so long ago.
Growing up on the south side of Chicago in the roughest neighborhood in the city I learned a lot from others and just observing my surroundings. At times, I would always think to myself my situation could always be worse than it was, and that there is always someone who is doing worst off than me. But my situation turned from being in a bad position to being in a position where my mother would come to lose her mother and our home that we had been living in, all in the same year. After losing her mother and bother my mom lost herself in her emotions and shut down on everyone and with that came the loss of a home for me and my siblings and her job. Shortly after my mom began to go back to church and so did we. It was the first time in a log time that we had attended church and it played a big part in a learning experience for me and my siblings. Through the days that came to pass going to church sparked a desire of wanting to help others who had or are struggling to get by. My mentor, Pastor, and teacher deserves appreciation for helping my mother through a hard time and keeping me and my siblings active in a positive manor.
I wasn’t even outside but I could feel the warm glow the sun was projecting all across the campsite. It seemed as if the first three days were gloomy and dreary, but when the sun on the fourth day arose, it washed away the heartache I had felt. I headed out of the trailer and went straight to the river. I walked to the edge, where my feet barely touched the icy water, and I felt a sense of tranquility emanate from the river. I felt as if the whole place had transformed and was back to being the place I loved the most. That day, when we went out on the boat, I went wakeboarding for the first time without my grandma. While I was up on the board and cutting through the wake of the boat, it didn’t feel like the boat was the one pulling and guiding me, it felt like the river was pushing and leading me. It was always nice to receive the reassurance from my grandma after wakeboarding, but this time I received it from my surroundings. The trees that were already three times the size of me, seemed to stand even taller as I glided past them on the river. The sun encouraged me with its brightness and warmth, and the River revitalized me with its powerful currents. The next three days passed by with ease, I no longer needed to reminisce of what my trips used to be like. Instead, I could be present in the moment, surrounded by the beautiful natural
“Mom, when I grow up, I’m moving to New York City!” I remember telling my mother at the tender age of twelve. That dream of living in the Big Apple stayed on the back of my mind until it finally became a reality. At was twenty years old, I was ready to come into my own, so I made one of the most significant decisions of my life; a decision that is most responsible for the evolvement of a young boy having to quickly become a man. I moved to New York City. Soon, I would learn that along with all the excitement and responsibilities associated with this new chapter of my life also came a ton of fear and many lonely nights. Fending for myself would be the only way to survive. After all, this was an enormous unfamiliar city
I pulled into the driveway of my house and parked my car. I grabbed my coat and bag and opened the door. When I got out I instantly began to smell the sweet aroma of the long rose bushes making their way out of our fence and into the world of our driveway. I was so captivated by the fall breeze, and the beautiful smell of fall in the air that I didn't even know that I was to the door. As I snapped back into reality, I looked up and I was standing at my doorway.
Growing up in Portland, Oregon was always something that made me feel very lucky, and it still does today. Both of my parents also grew up in Portland and they wanted my brother and I to experience what they had as middle-class, white Portlanders. Just like all aspects of life, as I grew older and left Portland to come to the University of Oregon in Eugene I began to question certain things about the place that I grew up and kept near and dear to my heart. As a young white man growing up in Portland, I felt very comfortable, often seeing only white people that look like me. But as I learn more about the history of Portland, Oregon and the racism that comes along with it, I began to question my feelings about the place I call my hometown.
I stopped walking and looked up at the faint stars. The seagulls were flying overhead. They were screeching and swooping at the water. I started to wish I were one of them, flying free without any restrictions or limits. I listened to their voice, the screech. Deep down in I could understand what they were saying. I can't explain it, but I was so in love with the moment I thought I saw things as they did. I was in company of animals that had no concept of time, and no worries, and I was contempt with that. I closed my eyes and the faint sun warmed my face, as if shining only for me. The warmth made ...
The dull light of the sun somehow manages to kindle my senses in a way I had never seen or felt before. Everything felt like it came to a standstill and the effect of the light made the scene look like one in a painting. The waves break gently into white foam on the black beach. The small crystals in the sand glimmer and twinkle brilliantly against the sunrays. The seagulls ride with the wind and the soft sand cushions my toes.
The grass was soft and green, reserved for those who wanted to lie down or sit. A sweet aroma of flowers overflowed near by like s shinning light, but was hidden by the untrimmed bushes and wildly growing trees. Up above me was the beautiful, high noon blue sky spotted with fluffy, white clouds and airplanes flying by. I emerged into the parking lot and stopped happily as a squirrel under a tree. Hesitating to proceed anywhere further I took a few minutes to treasure the moment of silence and peace. As my girlfriend and I got out of the car to get ready for the picnic, she happened to be distracted by the water; a rhythmic ongoing resemblance of rhythm in her heart. The water was clam and beautiful in every aspect. To me she was like a wave, never stooping to catch attention or go unnoticed. Before doing anything else, we began setting up the picnic. By the time we ware done, her temptation was unbearable and was finally unable to overcome it, consequently she eagerly ran towards the water pulling me right behind her. Each step was like an imprint in my heart, a fossil that would always remain the same and special inside me forever.
Having asked several people whether they thought I had an accent, I received similar responses each time. First was the cocked head, followed by the furrowed brow, and finally “No, I don’t think so.” There is no New York accent. There are, however, two distinct intonations, the Long Island and Brooklyn accents; the latter is what people are typically referring to when they talk about the elusive New York accent. Growing up in Manhattan I have neither, but rather a voice that is characteristically neutral.
The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.
In that split second I saw the world a little differently. I felt as though I had been shot. My mind paused and took a photograph of the view in front of me. I was only able to take one quick vivid photograph in my mind though because it all happened so quickly. The shimmering green grass was blinding my eyes as the strong rays of sunlight beamed down upon the fairway. There was a little gully about fifteen feet from me where there was tall grass that looked like pieces of green and brown string sticking out of the ground. A little patch of grass was missing by the gully to reveal a small sparkling creek that flowed rapidly. There was no wind to blow the strings, so they sat there motionless. I saw the bright green leaves of the trees that were almost completely surrounding me.
During this specific night, an army of mysterious, murky clouds seized control of divine sky, devouring the sun. Favored by the troops, the moon, displaying its glorious luminescence upon a shadowy city, wins a triumphant victory over the sun. A ferocious leader of the army activates the withdrawal then leads dedicated soldiers to west as if they are tracking down a wild dog. On the other hand, the city transmits its vivid and righteous illuminations back to the sky to let people in the “second floor” know that “era of tranquility” began. Imagine the astonishing night, rigid and bright buildings lie elegantly on the moonlight sky, bring lights gaze from the thousands of bulbs. It is beautiful, yet no one knows what beauty is upon them.