distinctive mark of quality and modern... ... middle of paper ... ...t chair conceived to add a personal touch and distinctive feel to any space. Cher plays on the contrast between its geometric profile - obscure; mystique and mystery. Design derived from a Papasan chair (also called a moon chair) simple and bare, yet glowing and warm, it lifts tradition into today’s space. Stunning and simple this sculptural “Ghost Chair” is a skeleton of fine line latticework reminiscence of an industrial past
A week ago I almost gave up again. Saturday was spent on my in-law’s porch with a coffee and Baileys stewing over my frustration in losing my 14th scholarship contest. I sat out there, posing myself like an author; leaning on the arm of the chair with my chin rested on curled fingers, holding my pen like a cigarette, hoping to channel King or Orwell. I started this project, writing scholarship essays, at the beginning of the year honestly believing if I just wrote enough essays statistically I would
“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered, his warm breath sending small zaps of pleasure down her spine. [Q3] moved away from her and went to sit in the leather chair that adorned a nearby corner. Other than where she stood the rest of the room was covered in shadows and he all but disappeared as he leaned into the chair. “[Q19], what’s going on?” she indicated the dress and other items on the bed. “I don’t want you to speak, [Q1]. I just want you to do as I instruct,” his voice was deep, a
over the table, but still enough to be noncommittal and inattentive. She reached through the maze of their cups and plates to spear a french-fry on his plate. She shifted her weight. The chair rocked under her, threatening her already uncertain balance and attempted grace in one blow. She shifted the feet of the chair, hoping to find some sort of equilibrium, but again the seat rocked under her, still precarious. "Look at the angles to her face," he went on, working his words around mouthfuls. His
in defense of the beggar, scolds Melantho, saying, "Make no mistake, you brazen, shameless bitch ... my heart breaks for him" (393). Penelope, well aware of the relationship between the beggar and Odysseus, asks Eurynome to bring out a soft chair in order than the beggar can tell his story. She wishes to ask him careful details about his friendship with her missing husband. Odysseus begins by flattering Penelope, but she says her only concern is her husband whom she misses. She explains
breath and opened the door. A clean but musty smell instantly filled my lungs. The old place was very cold and uncomfortable. The lady at the desk smiled at me and said, "Have a seat it will only be a few minutes." I turn around to look for the chairs and saw the west wall covered with old cracked wallpaper plastered with flowers. I glance behind me and see the receptionist desk once again, and the bulletin board on the wall next to it with dentist jokes and advertisements all over it. The receptionist
Pavia until he moved to Padua where he became a Rector of the university. Here he attained a degree in medicine. In 1524 Cardano moved to Sacco where he married and gained the chair of mathematics at Academia Palatina. One decade later he lost this chair too Zuanne da Coi. . In the year of 1535, right after Cardano lost his chair too Zuanne da Coi. Niccolo won a mathematical competition by defeating Antonio Maria Fior. This revolved around the problem of the cubic equation. On hearing this news Cardano
one where she will be her own person, answering only to herself. For a brief moment the reader is able to see through to how she is truly feeling, her emotional release apparent when she sat “with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair...'; She is overwhelmed with freedom, opening her arms to it, letting it envelope both her body and her soul. While this realization is occurring, a somewhat strange thing is happening outside. Usually when a character dies, the weather becomes dark
There are few telltale signs of what Shelly Gregory copes with on a daily basis. On closer observation, one may notice the odd way she holds the right side of her abdomen when she walks or the way she tilts her body to the side when she sits on a chair for too long. To people around her, Gregory, a 35-year-old mother of two daughters, may pass as healthy. But only those in her inner circle, including her husband and children, truly understand the pain she has to endure. “When I’m having a really
space, "...where there is empty space, there matter is not...", and these two things make up the entire universe. These invisible particles come together to form material objects, you and I are made of the same atoms as a chair or a tree. When the tree dies or the chair is thrown into a fire the atoms do not burn up or die, but are dispersed back into the vacuity. The atoms alone are without mind or secondary qualities, but they can combine to form living and thinking objects, along with sound
time someone stepped on it. In front of the window, there was a long and silky burgundy curtain. The room did not have much furniture either. There was a queen sized bed white cream colored sheets, one average sized lamp, an old phone, two red sofa chairs, a coffee table, a little refrigerator and a toaster which was placed on top of the coffee table. In the room, there was also two framed pictures. One was a picture of an old town and the other picture was a small family on a farm. Mike had also realized
locker, open it up grabbing my stuff to take to study hall. I make my way towards the library where my study hall takes place. I take a seat in the back corner of the room, and pull one of the chairs at the table out from underneath the table. I tilt it back, then rest it up against the wall. I sit in the chair and put my headphones on. I open up ‘Thirteen Reason Why’ a...
In Kate Chopin’s “The Story of an Hour”, the struggle for freedom is dominant. The main character, Mrs. Mallard, stands for a woman who is struggling internally and externally for freedom. After the sudden loss of her husband, Mrs. Mallard gets a taste of the freedom she was lacking in her marriage. Like Mrs. Mallard, women throughout history have struggled to find freedom and success away from their husbands. Chopin herself only became successful after the loss of her husband. In “The Story of an
the receptionists’ desk with scowls on their faces. They speak in harsh words and point at the clock. It seems like I’m the only calm one in a state of confusion, but I’m too scared to get up or do anything. My spine grinds against the back of the chair as I shift position so I’m hunched over. My hands are white and shaking, and my throat is parched but I gulp anyway as a lady comes up to me. I see only her sneakers and don’t meet her eyes. “Are you okay, young man?” she asks. With relief and dread
as the characters end up taking responsibility for ridding the Earth of pollution; while in Feed, the people have yet to notice the monstrous acts dealing with pollution happening on Earth. Also, the humans in Wall-E have ridden themselves of the chair. The humans in Feed still have not realised the fatal flaw of their technology dependency. All these similarities between theses works are a satire to human civilisation today. Both Disney Pixar and M.T Anderson send out a message of that large amounts
The Franks and the Van Daans have been in hiding for 6 months and are performing there ritual Hanukkah, then they hear a noise downstairs everyone slips there shoes off and, Peter goes to switch the light off but in the process trips over a chair and makes a racket ,the person downstairs is scared and rushes off . After this everyone jumps to conclusion “it’s the green police they’ve found us” and “no it’s a thief looking for money”. Mr Frank tells every one to calm down. Mr Frank goes
that it was I who was looking at her for the first time. I lit a cigarette. I took a drag on the harsh, strong smoke, before spinning in the chair, balancing on one of the rear legs. After that I saw her there, as if she'd been standing beside the lamp looking at me every night. For a few brief minutes that's all we did: look at each other. I looked from the chair, balancing on one of the rear legs. She stood, with a long and quiet hand on the lamp, looking at me. I saw her eyelids lighted up as on every
67 year-old performance artist Marina Abramović once said, “I don’t have this kind of feeling in real life, but in performance I have this enormous love, this heart that literally hurts me with how much I love them." In the early 1970s, in order to reduce the distance between the artist and the audience, she began using her own body as a medium. She has cut herself, run into walls, jumped into fire, and knocked herself unconscious in the name of her art; and, from March to April of 2010, she invited
fill one corner of the building’s long hallway. Often, students sit on the chairs that line the walls while waiting for a class to start, but for now the hallway is nearly empty and waiting for the ambush of students. Outside the classroom, a number plaque reading one-hundred and seventy is sitting on the wall framed in blue. Another door nearby opens and the wind rustles the papers of the notebook that sits on a chair. Three people stroll casually out of the room and walk on the one foot by one
up the steps, I noticed that it seemed tremendously smaller. The house was as similar as my foggy memory allowed me to recall: white couches faded to tan with butt imprints, a table for two jutted up to the equally small kitchen, two beige rocking chairs in front of a TV from two decades ago. The question in the forefront of my mind was, “Where are we all going to sleep?” I shortly found out both of the couches had pull out beds. My mom and I eventually made our way down the beach and I excitedly