“The first time I heard Sous le ciel de Paris by Edith Piaf was when I was, coincidentally, near where we are now. Under Paris skies is what sous le ciel de Paris roughly translates to from French, in case you didn't know,” the stranger on the bench said to me. I was a bit taken back at first and confused as to why he would say this. My attention was then focused on a nearby street performer playing that exact song on an accordion. Now it all made sense and I understood why he was talking about it. Funny enough, I had just heard the song for the first time a few days ago.
“It was the spring before I turned twenty-nine, I think,” the old man muttered as he stared down the length of the Seine river, “The song had just come out and I should've been a young man hopeless in love with my fiance, exploring all these alleys and streets in the city of lights and love, or whatever you wish to call it, without a care in the world. Back in my younger years I was the furthest anyone could be from worry free. Times before then made all of us different.”
I could tell he wasn't a native Frenchman, at least not by birth, for two major reasons. One, Parisians don't often initiate conversations with complete strangers or say anything more than have good day, or good evening in passing, and two, they for sure did not talk openly about personal issues with strangers. Ever. You could tell this fellow expat had the need to talk to someone, and I felt I had the duty to listen to him.
"Her name was Aimée. Beautiful, ain't it?” he said as he looked over for reassurance. I nodded agreeingly. He told me his name was John, but all his friends called him Jack and instructed me to call him by that. I told him mine and then he continued on with his story....
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...where he originally wanted to go, after he was almost finished with it all and soon had to go back home. “Walking around Paris on that beautiful August day, there wasn't a frown or sad face to be seen. The whole city was alive again and felt free for the first time in a long time.” He spoke about these times and events in such a vague manner, as if it was something I should already know.
“It was then as I was passing over the Pont de l'Archevêché bridge behind Notre Dame that I heard a cry for help,” Jack voiced with an increasingly suspenseful tone as if he was building towards something big. “I looked around trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. As I peaked over the bridge into the dark murky waters of the Seine, it was then that I saw her. Without a moments hesitation I dropped my bags and jumped in. See, I told you it wasn't of my own accord.”
In conclusion, the story describes that life changes, and nothing stays the same throughout it. It is in the hands of the people to decide that how they want their life to be. They can make it as beautiful as they want to and they can also make it worse than it has ever been
The subsequent section is concise as it provides the depressive historical context of the poem. The usage of factual period of time 1949 and the war / Now four years dead- conveys the suffering of the exiles and their endurance of the lengthy wait to migrate as they weren’t economically or physically capable to leave earlier.
Immediately this comes into effect as John says, "But...Between you and me, you understand?... Well, I wake in the night... and watch her dream... and sometimes her mouth even moves, just a little bit. It's like a whisper. I can never make that out. I don't know where she goes, in her dreams. I don't even know if I'm in them...I don't think I can bear losing her."
The fairytale depiction of love and romance seems to no longer exist in society. With the growing divorce rate and the increase of loveless marriage, it is rare to find an honest depiction of twenty first century love. Using the relationship of Carol and Howard as a hyperbole to modern day romance, Mavis Gallant explores the theme of algorithmic relationships to develop a commentary on the lack of love in modern day relationships. The characterization of Carol and Howard as an engaged couple lacking love and the use of abstract ideas, analogies, and hyperbole, “The Other Paris” tells the dismal future of relationships.
Marita Bonner starts her short essay by describing the joys and innocence of youth. She depicts the carefree fancies of a cheerful and intelligent child. She compares the feelings of such abandonment and gaiety to that of a kitten in a field of catnip. Where the future is opened to endless opportunities and filled with all the dream and promises that only a youth can know. There are so many things in the world to see, learn, and experience that your mind in split into many directions of interest. This is a memorable time in life filled with bliss and lack of hardships.
The speaker also manipulates time to bring out his or her message. Lines 3, 8, 11, 21, 34, and 36 all contain some order of either “spring summer autumn winter” (3), as in lines 11 and 34, or “sun moon stars rain” (8), as in lines 11, 21, and 36. As the order of these seasons changes, it indicates the passage of time. This manipulation of time draws attention away from these lines and towards the lines with deeper meaning hidden within. However, there is another form of time: the progression of life. The speaker comments on the growth of children in terms of their maturity levels and how as they get older, children tend to forget their childish whims and fancies and move on. He or she says that they “guessed (but only a few / and down they forgot as up they grew” (9-10). He or she then goes on to say that “no one loved [anyone] more by more” (12), hinting at a relationship in development, foreshadowing a possible marriage.
“It’s difficult to recall the first time I went to Switzerland. The actual experience of flying across the ocean at a young age felt like journeying to a different world. That eleven-hour flight was such a tedious part of the very exciting journey ahead. I remember once looking out the window of the plane as we touched down and feeling such a deep comfort and contentment. I felt as though I was home. What awaited me were days of family and friends, hiking and exploring, and delicious food. It was always such a beautiful experience being i...
...urope and the United States. He later returned home, seemingly tired of the Parisian atmosphere.
Toni Morrison’s novel Beloved swims like a garden pond full of minnows with thoughts and memories of days gone by. Each memory is like a drop of water, and when one person brings up enough drops, a trickle of a stream is formed. The trickles make their way down the shallow slopes and inclines, pushing leaves, twigs, and other barriers out of the way, leaving small bits of themselves behind so their paths can be traced again. There is a point, a vertex, a lair, where many peoples streams unite in a valley, in the heart of a pebble lined brook, and it is here that their trickles of days gone by fuse with each other, and float hand in hand until they ultimately settle to form the backyard pond.
It was a warm sunny day in the summer of the nineteen nighties nine, at the Jersey Shore. Sally stood outside her grandparents ' house with hesitation. Should Juan and I have come? Sally thinks to herself. Sally then begins to gaze out at the ocean 's shorelines. As if time had stood still and the world faded away. She closed her eyes and took it all in. It made her think of all the wonderful childhood memories that they had achieved there. Sally remembered playing in the sand, swimming in the ocean, the bright sun gazing down upon her and a boy. This place had memories that Sally would never forget and treasure forever, for that kid now a man was always in her heart and her life.
Compared to other countries, France’s economy is the fourth largest in the world. France is a very industrialized nation, yet it has kept some of the cultural characteristics that contribute to its old-world charm. The economy is “exceptionally diversified” (“Economic Structure”, 1). It produces everything from aircrafts to pharmaceuticals.
I had gone. . . to the smoke of cafes and nights when the room whirled and you needed to look at the wall, nights in bed, drunk, when you knew that that was all there was, and the strange excitement of waking and not knowing who it was with you, and the world all unreal in the dark and so exciting that you must resume again unknowing and not caring in the night, sure that this was all and all and all and not caring (13).
The story possesses amazingly vivid description. This attention to detail affords the reader the greatest degree of reading pleasure. Crane paints such glorious images in reader's mind with his eloquence. "The morning appeared finally, in its splendor, with a sky of pure blue, and the sunlight flamed on the tips of waves"(387). Artistic sentences of such caliber are not often found. The reader is left with a terrific vision of the perilous sea maintaining its beauty amongst the violence of the wind. "Their back- bones had become thoroughly used to balancing in the boat and they now rode this wild colt of a dinghy like circus men"(378). Here, again, Crane uses splendid detail to capture the essence of the chaotic situation.
The sheer white curtains billow in through the open window with the warm night air, like the sails of a ship setting off into the night. Lying in bed, I hear the buzz of a scooter whizzing through the streets, ironically followed by the rhythmic clip-clop of horseshoes meeting the cobblestone streets. It is our last night in Salzburg, Austria, and that moment embodies what makes this city appeal to me so much. Somehow, in the midst of the chaos of the twenty-first century, Salzburg has preserved many remnants of its past while still keeping up with the times in many other ways. Pondering this, I lie in bed unable to fall asleep, as two ribbons of wind flutter through the opposing windows and collide in the center of the room shredding in every direction, and blowing the hair from my face. In the mirror on the wall, the stubborn moonbeams, refusing to go out with the lights, shine and dance as they are reflected onto the wall. I blink slowly, pausing to feel my body sink deep into the down mattress. Every muscle in my body relaxes, leaving me in complete comfort, lying here alone with...
Where is the one place in the world you would love to visit? The place that I would like to visit is Paris. The reason I would like to visit Paris is because of how nice and how wonderful the place looks. The thing that I want to see the most there is the Eiffel Tower. While in Paris, I would love to try new foods and try a different way of living.