Personal Narrative Analysis

Living in an another country during the school year as a kid comes with useful perks, one of them being able to skip cursive writing homework and also being able to have mini adventures by exploring the different structures and the interesting culture. I lived in New Delhi, India for a month, so my family and I could visit my grandfather.
I kicked my little brother out of my bed because of his ferocious tickling tactics to get me to wake up. He then propped himself up and went for a leg kick to get even with me. And for the next five minutes, we would go at each other like it was the WWE, but the winner was always decided on whoever first told on mom. When one of us would initiate the tattling, the other would regularly create the face of dread. This time I felt like I had the upper hand in this argument and immediately rushed downstairs in search of my mom. The wailings of my brother to say nothing about the situation that would constantly be three steps behind me, made me want to go faster down the gigantic concrete stairs that were designed for people on stilts. When I arrived on the ground floor, I rushed to my mom in the tiniest kitchen that had a max capacity of two people. I started to spew out what happened in our altercation that would be altered to my favor while my brother jumps in seconds later,

The temple was wooden with red paint that was at its end of its lifetime and out on the outer portion of it, there were prayer wheels. The prayer wheels would have the mantra “Om Mani Padme Hum” inscribed on it and the idea would be that spinning such a wheel would have the same meritorious effect as orally reciting the prayers. I went to grab my brother and head back home, but we were both walking around the temple continuously, having fun by spinning the prayer wheels. With each new wheel we spun it faster than before and after a while, we returned back