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Impact of social media in our daily lives
Impact of social media in our daily lives
Effect of social media on the day to day lives of people
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It was like any other day, The sun was shining and the birds were chirping. People were going about with their normal and happy lives. There were families that were playing around with their kids and people walking their dogs. It was a Sunday,but even though the mood and morale above seems positive, the mood below was very sinister. Below was a subway that was not very pleasing to the eye. The floors had a lot streaky Blood Marks on it due to multiple fights and shootings that occurred down in that part of the subway.But something about this particular day was a little more normal than any other day. Everything was calm, everything was quiet, but it was just too good to be true. Five stops down there was a train was scheduled to stop at that station. Little did anybody seem to know there was something very drastic that was supposed to happen that day. In the train station everybody was waiting for a returning cross country train. It was making its way from Ludendorff, North Yankton and was on course to return to San Andreas, Los Santos. The people at the stop were excited to see their family and friends. One little girl, Her name was Allison, …show more content…
Daniel told his friend, “ah, it’s been too long. I have not seen my lovely wife. I have not seen my beautiful little princess Allison for so long. They are going to be so happy to see me.” His friend replied, “They sure will Dan”. Ever since Daniel was of in Ludendorff he has had a documented diary of everything he had done during his business trip and he is going to share it all to Allison once he makes his way to San Andreas. Also on this Train was the oldest member of the Payne Family, His name was Zaire. He could not talk and was very frail and close to death but he wanted to see his family just one more time. People were happy to get home to their families but had no idea what they were in
On their way to the village they are stopped by Nazi soldiers who says they must come with them to be relocated. Hannah is the only one who knows what is actually about to happen. She tries to explain why they must not go with the soldiers but the adults explain that they have no choice. They are loaded in trucks and drove off to a train station where they are gathered into cars with barely any room to breathe. The ride on the train lasts for days and several children and infants do not live
In this poem, “On the Subway”, written by Sharon Olds brings two worlds into proximity. We will identify the contrast that develops both portraits in the poem and discuss the insights the narrator comes to because of the experience. The author refers to several literary techniques as tone, poetic devices, imagery, and organization. The poem talks about a historical view based on black and white skin. It positions the two worlds the point of view of a black skinned and a white skinned. The boy is described as having a casual cold look for a mugger and alert under the hooded lids. On the other hand, based on his appearance the white skinned person felt threatened by the black boy. She was frightened that he could take her coat, brief case, and
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
In “On the Subway” by Sharon Olds, the author contrasts two divergent people. Olds come to many conclusions as a result of the experience. Sharon Olds utilizes tone, poetic devices such as metaphor, and finally imagery.
The airport travelers were a group of people trying to escape the rebels, hoping that the airport would be able to give them a flight to America. Sophie, on the scooter given to her, was just minding her own business trying to pass them without drawing too much attention to herself. However that did not work. The travelers wanted her scooter and little Otto. She gladly gave the scooter away, but there was no way she would give up Otto. But the men of the group took him away. Sophie was terrified. In her time of panic, a woman with little girls stepped up to help her. She convinced the men to give up Otto. In return Sophie graciously gave her belongings for survival, to her and her family. The challenge in this situation is the fact that Otto would have been stolen and taken away. Sophie became stronger by remaining calm and learning some skills for
cold, harsh, wintry days, when my brothers and sister and I trudged home from school burdened down by the silence and frigidity of our long trek from the main road, down the hill to our shabby-looking house. More rundown than any of our classmates’ houses. In winter my mother’s riotous flowers would be absent, and the shack stood revealed for what it was. A gray, decaying...
For many people, the early hours of the morning can hold numerous possibilities from time for quiet reflections to beginning of the day observations to waking up and taking in the fresh air. In the instance of the poems “Five A.M.” and “Five Flights Up,” respective poets William Stafford and Elizabeth Bishop write of experiences similar to these. However, what lies different in their styles is the state of mind of the speakers. While Stafford’s speaker silently reflects on his walk at dawn from a philosophical view of facing the troubles that lie ahead in his day, Bishop’s speaker observes nature’s creations and their blissful well-being after the bad day had before and the impact these negative thoughts have on her psychological state in terms
Another emotion portrayed through the narrators language is disappointment. The center of the work is where the story takes a deep turn downward - and the black cloud presents itself. Mr. DonLeavy's presence was insult enough, but to say he was "glad to be here to see the work going on just as it was in the other schools" (838)...
To conclude, it should be evident that a faded, future setting and a theme relating to the do not’s of something seemingly innocent will leave a sad mood so carefully described previously. If someone decides to write or read a story taking place in the future when no one else can read, and your mind is controlled by the machine that destroyed the world, it is inevitable that the reader will be left feeling stranded and alone. If this reader itself is reading this on a cold November evening when all else feels cold and dead, it should enjoy its company, and curl a little closer to the heater.
Sylvia and her sister, Jenny, were living with their mother, who was recently divorced. One day, their mother was arrested for shoplifting and was thrown in jail. Because they had no parental supervision, the girls walked around their town and soon became friends with one of Mrs. Baniszewski's daughters. The Likens girls stayed the night at her house. Mr Likens went to visit his daughters and found them missing.
The street lights outside flickered with age, popping and gently fizzing with every stream of electricity that ran through the bulb. Sat inside of the laundromat and watching the flickering lights, I was awaiting the wash cycle’s end. Clothes that were dirtied from last night were being rehabilitated by vicious lashes of water and soap. It was the holy cleansing we all deserved. The shirts, pants and socks all pushed up against the restricting glass of the washing machine’s door, fighting for freedom while I just sat there, aware of the cruelty and the drowning but yawning my cares away. The inside of the laundromat was cast in a harsh cyan light that pained the eyes at such late times as these. It was around 9 p.m., and the only people present included myself and a
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.
Away from the immense sea, white foams from the waves gather gently onto the golden shore. Now, half of a glowing, radiant light looms across the water 's horizon. The sea turns blood-red and darkness creeps up like a thief. The necklace that once reflected its passionate energy of fury moments ago now resembled a mere costume jewellery. Perhaps the loss of the necklace’s elegance and sophistication was the reason to why it was disregarded. Pity the owner did not see the necklace radiating its splendour at its peak. Anyhow, the nightfall creates a sensation of joy and tranquillity in me. Every sight and sound stimulates a sense of composure and serenity; and the effect is heightened by the absence of the noisy bustle of our daily work, only to be exposed to the never-ending music of the waves, and to breathe the fresh air instead of the stale atmosphere of classrooms. It is not easy to describe the effect of this sight; it can only be strangely deciphered in my mind. It is however, a very tangible and distinct emotion, though its allure really depends upon the reality of the world from a further point of view, away from the definite predictabilities of the world, all in which an instant becomes like a translucent drape which almost consents me to catch a glimpse of a ideal and more breath-taking reality. The worldly desires, expectations, worries, schemes, suddenly cease to exist. It is as though all of
The street is quiet, and seems like it is dead. The sounds I can hear are the leaves rustling in the breeze, and the pitter-patter sounds of raindrops falling on the ground. Together, they compose a brilliant song of nature. No din from the high-school students, no irritating noise from the car. No one, not even a soul dares to make a sound to disturb this moment. Everything is silent, as if it isn’t even alive, just like a ghost street that only emerges in the mid-night and will vanish when the first sunlight strikes down from the sky. Wet dirt mixes with the smells of perfumes that left behind by people suffuse the air. Making me think of the mixture of sodas and expired apple juices.
The shrill cries of my alarm echo across vermilion painted walls, stirring my consciousness into an aware state. It is precisely eight o’clock on a warm summer Monday; the distant cries of mockingbirds can be heard above the soft whirring of cars passing our genteel residential street. My ears scan the house; it is quiet – barely a sound other than the tinkling of tags as our pets navigate the living room. The still morning air brought realization, with no children running around Mother must have already left for work. Never leaving my lax position I stretch and sigh, it is nice to not have to baby-sit my sister’s kids – my nieces and nephew – but I do miss the mornings where my mother would still kiss me goodbye.