As we walked inside the Brew‚ I noticed a familiar Dark brown-haired dude sitting in the corner with a coffee in his hand. " Two cups of cappuccino with whipped cream and 1 scoop of sugar in one of them please!" Spencer ordered for us and payed for them quickly. I tried to protest‚ but being Spencer Hastings‚ she wouldn’t budge. Once we got our coffees‚ I followed Spencer to a dark‚ secluded part of the Brew and sat down on the red velvet seating. " This is nice." I said to Spencer‚ sipping
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"Shooting an Elephant" is an essay by George Orwell‚is a colonial policeman in Moulmein‚ Lower Burma who is hated and disrespected by the local people of Burma.Whom also must obey the order of the British imperialism without a choice. as Orwell suffers from the Burmese Orwell is confuses‚because he is secretly on their side‚ and opposed to the oppressive British empire he serves.through his work handling wretched prisoners gives him a close-up view of “the dirty work of Europe” in the process it
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again. Furious he adventures up the mountain to relieve anger. Not surprising because big tim was a peaceful teenager when his phone was alive‚ but when the bald headed giants phone died and he couldn’t text or play games‚ oh the things he would do. All though nothing was as bad as what I’m about to tell you now. Walking up the giant ‚steep mountain‚ a griffon accompanied him trying to cheer him up by dancing and flying‚ but big tim didn’t care he took his anger out on the griffon. Big Tim kicked
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She was young‚ but old. Young in the eyes of someone old‚ old in the eyes of someone young. Her golden hair was like the setting sun‚ full of bright colors. And her eyes held so much spirit that you thought you were looking into the bright blue ocean. Her pointed ears poked out inbetween her hair and when she smiled the sun was brought out from behind the cloud it was hidden from. She walked through the green‚ lush‚ forest. Her footsteps soft and silent. She would often go here when the sun set
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June had always been the most lionhearted out of all us. The youngest of ten brothers‚ living life with only a deadbeat father and a penny to her name. It was no surprise that she was the one to lead us through the abandoned home on the hillside. It was hauntingly beautiful‚ this home. The roof half caved in‚ moss overtaking the sights of the windows and the breath of the walls. The door was locked‚ obviously to keep us out; the ruffians. "No matter‚" June said‚ entering instead through a hole
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Maxwell comes back over to the bed. He pops it open. Straddling Jada‚he reaches under Jada and undo the towel. Her body is exposed. Maxwell pours the liquid in his hand and begins to massage her neck and shoulders. It feels so good that Jada all but sinks into the bed. She moans.
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“That’s amazing Tweek. I can’t wait to get out of here.” AN: This is it‚ thanks for reading Obstacle! I hope the ending is satisfying. I’m fiddling around with a sequel idea for this‚ but I’m not too certain on what it will be. I made a playlist of all the chapter songs here.
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nightgown does not cover her arms completely. She tries to quickly cover up her arms with the blanket‚ but Mrs. Rebecca continues to glare at her with a look of disdain. “I did not mean to impose. I just wanted to bring you some food because you have been sleeping for so long‚ but I do have a friend who can help you with those bruises‚” Mrs. Rebecca tells her. “No‚ it is fine‚” Jasmine begins. “Edna has great ointments. It will make those bruises go away faster‚ so you will not have to worry about
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deepseated hatred for those who bully him incessantly. This hatred he directs particularly towards the young Buddhist priests of whom none “seemed to have anything better to do except stand on street corners and jeer at europeans”. However‚ Orwell goes on to explain‚ that he is actually “all for the Burmese”‚ in apparent contradiction with his opening depiction. ● Orwell describes seeing the “dirty work of empire at close quarters”. ○ ○ ○ ○ Suggests the idea of a contrast between colonialism near and far that we see in Heart of Darkness
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Shooting an Elephant is a self-identity essay written by George Orwell recounting his time as an Imperial guard in Burma. He describes the ways that he was treated and how he was hated and seen as a symbol of the oppressive Imperials that he worked for. Orwell discussed how he had grown disenfranchised with imperialism and decided that it “was an evil thing and the sooner I chucked up my job and got out the better.” Orwell described his job in terms where he was on the front line‚ and wrong side
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