He let the ministries zip past (the pink, the white), and a series of stores on the main street, their windows flash ing. Now he was beginning the most pleasant part of the run, the real ride: a long street bordered withtrees, very little traffic, with spacious villas whose gardens rambled all theway down to the sidewalks, which were barely indi cated by low hedges. Abit inattentive perhaps, but tooling along on the right side of the street, heallowed himself to be carried away by the freshness, by the weightlesscontraction of this hardly begun day. This involuntary relaxa tion, possibly,kept him from preventing the accident. When he saw that the womanstanding on the corner had rushed into the crosswalk while he still had thegreen light, it was already somewhat too late for a simple solu tion. Hebraked hard with foot and hand, wrenching him self to the left; he heard thewoman scream, and at the collision his vision went. It was like falling asleep all at once. He came to abruptly. Four or five young men were get ting him out from under the cycle. He felt the taste of salt and blood, oneknee hurt, and when they hoisted him up he yelped, he couldn't bear the presssure on his right arm. Voices which did not seem to belong to thefaces hanging above him encouraged him cheerfully with jokes and assurances. His single solace was to hear someone else confirm that thelights indeed had…
In part one of the book, Chang informs the reader about the communal land and farming of the Creek Indians, and the way in which the Creeks battled to maintain the possession of their land. It also, includes the transforming practices and roles of the people prior to the privatization of landownership. Chang includes the evolving use of land, the increased use of slaves, and the lack of compromise concerning power and property.…
Momaday uses memories, cultural stories and flashbacks, combining his own experiences to bring together a journey of mind and body: Momaday presents three different “vision” of the Kiowa experience which are the “Kiowa” the “historical” and the “personal.” The Kiowa vision is composed by myths passed down to Momaday in tradition from relative nad other “tribespople” these myths are colorful and imaginative of the creators. But the Kiowa myth brings out the cultural value system: the sun the horse and the buffalo elements fundamental to sustain their lives.…
Next, because of Nya’s geological location, her family has to walk for days to get to an infirmary. In the village, “Nya’s uncle, the chief of their village, knew of a…
Momaday uses this memoir to document, not only the end of his grandmother’s life, but also the “end” of several ways of life for the Kiowa people by constructing this world for the reader as if the reader had been there himself. Momaday begins his memoir with strong and descriptive word choice illustrating Rainy Mountain. Each sentence acting as a brushstroke in the reader’s mind, the paragraph painting an elaborate picture, the reader feels as if he has been dropped into the setting. Momaday then constructs characters with very much detail in, not just their appearance, but their personality. Thus, one feels he knows them so well they seem to be archetypal characters. Thirdly, Momaday writes this story from a different perspective. Most…
This folktale demonstrates the essence of the Hmong culture on several levels. In the fighting, the themes of determination, never giving up, and being smart in one’s judgment reflects some of the underlying premises the Hmong culture.…
The timeless babbling and gushing of the creek is accompanied by the flopping, wallowing, and the bellowing of the group. The elderly perch like reptiles reclining in the sunlight, as the young one’s frolic in the calm shallows. The water was cool to the touch, reminiscent to the satisfying nip of a glass of cold lemonade. The air gave off a fresh, wooden aroma, thelt had an undertone of green plants. There was an occasional sound from the wood’s wildlife, made known through the call of some distant bird, the snap of a twig by a squirrel, or the rustle of leaves by some other animal. In the group, a favorite pastime of the older children was to scale a large rock protruding from the water. They would then hurl themselves off it, spending a split second suspended in the air like a large bird of prey, before landing in the deep, frigid…
ne of the common features found in the literature about Native American folklores is that it exhibits a big and rapid influence by the dominant culture which results in the discontinuity between old and new, mostly the latter selected over the former. This book’s chapters except for the prologue and epilogue each chapter is consisted of three voices: folktale narrative, historical, and modern personal feelings. The author seems to model via this format how in Kiowa people’s conscience the time and space work and how they view the discord between the enriched past and nihilistic present for them, as seen in the different tones. This book explains how the mixing of culture during their history has molded Kiowa’s contrasting views towards the…
I just stepped off the school bus. The ground was muddy. The sky was gray. Rain was pouring down on my head like I was standing under a waterfall. I had only been at Algonquin Park for one minute and already, I missed home.…
One winter evening she looked at them: the husband durable, receptive, gentle; the child a tender golden three. The sight of them made her so sad and sick she did not want to see them ever again.…
Breakfast was quite, as it was most mornings, and he soon excused himself after finishing his food. Standing, he slipped his bag on, ready to leave for the day and hoping nothing made his day unbearable. Stopping when he heard his father’s voice, he took in a breath before turning to face the elderly Japanese…
One day, it seemed as if he had gathered up his wits, for he rushed down the smooth, green, gentle slope. He ran for a while, the distance between him and Annabel Lee growing ever closer. Suddenly, he stood behind her, breathless. His face,…
The day was bright with a welcoming sky and cotton clouds. A cool breeze broke the heavy humidity and lifted a weight off my shoulders. The building that was once a towering mountain was behind me and my pathway lead home. A new family member was coming home and this time, she was…
After several days and nights the desert began to become hotter and we lost track of time. As we were walking along under the stars in dark of the night I tripped over a rock and fell towards the ground with a splash. The cool liquid surrounded my dry skin as a feeling of joy spread throughout my body. “Water!” I shouted back to the others. Smiles spread across the group as they jumped into the pool of water. Everyone drank and ate berries from the surrounding bushes until we could eat no more. As we sat around a fire that James had created the conversation of how much more walking we could take came up.…
In this poem, Naoshi Koriyama portrays a large and powerful Jetliner as a simple runner or long jumper. It has been disputed if Naoshi is really speaking of a long jumper, and not a runner, in this analysis I hope to prove that Naoshi is really speaking of a long jumper starting his run and lunging himself into the air. I will also break down each individual stanza and present its Imagery and compare the Jetliner to the Long jumper.…