Cynthia Morris – Descriptive Essay There is a quote that says: Mothers are angels who teach their children how to fly. Indeed my mother was an angel who in my younger years I thought was sent here to torture me especially when I wanted to hang out with my friends instead of doing chores or homework. My mother was the pillar of strength‚ love‚ and compassion. Mothers may be misunderstood but that doesn’t mean they don’t care or know better. My earliest memories of my mother‚ was her pretty
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When I finally fell asleep I was running. To this day I do not know what from. Whatever it was it must have been the most terrifying thing ever to exist for I seemed to be running without trying to. It was as if I had almost no control over my body. I wished to see what I was running from so I tried to open my eyes. I don’t know what I was expecting to happen. Perhaps I thought that my body would not respond to my commands as it didn’t with the running. Therefore it was a surprise to me when at my
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College Writing 2 October 2012 Descriptive Essay A compact two-door car might not mean a lot to someone‚ but to me‚ working and improving my car is my favorite thing to do. When I am not inside my house or hanging out with my friends‚ you’ll be sure to find me working or cleaning my car. For most people‚ leaving their car stock is passable for their needs‚ but to me it’s not. My car is modified which makes it one of a kind. My car consists of its exterior‚ interior‚ and performance level
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Donato 1 Justin Donato Professor Jessica Catron English II 23 February 2014 Descriptive Essay: First Year at HAA The year was 2010 when my parents decided that it was time for a change. I have not really realized how big that change impacted my life until now. I went to North Shore Seventh Day Adventist Academy for six years. At first‚ I really did not want to switch schools but as I put more and more thought into it‚ I decided that it was the best thing for me to do. This first year at
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| Descriptive Essay | Rough draft | | Gatewood‚ Jasmine | 10/12/2012 | Myself: Person Hello kitty collection thing Homemade spaghetti food Downtown Dallas place Jasmine Gatewood English 0331.2 Ms. Fischel 10/12/12 Description Essay Downtown Dallas home of the dart and the drug dealers on every corner‚ my friends and I used to visit regularly to have a nice chipotle dinner. When you are hear you cannot help but‚ visit the many food places‚ and cultural
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granny’s house. When my granny was having important company‚ she would tell us to make sure her house was spotless. If we didn’t‚ we knew we would not be able to come out of the big dark room. This room was not where a child would want to be; it was scary. The walls were cover with posters of people who looked as if they were coming to get you. My grandmother always sat in the kitchen of her house. This is where she would drink her black coffee with no sugar‚ and smoke her Benson Hedges cigarettes
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Descriptive Essay Hearts were racing‚ twelve to be exact‚ lungs were being constricted tighter and tighter with every second that went by‚ joints were being pushed to their limits as their limbs stretched the farthest they could reach‚ and yet these twelve people were still able to ignore their injuries. All they revealed was happiness. There was no pain to be seen. No acknowledgement of misery because they all knew they only had those two minutes and thirty seconds to give it their all. Any sense
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Composition 2 Descriptive Although worn out and beaten thin‚ my favorite t-shirt reigns supreme. Its rugged exterior presents a shabby disposition. Many new t-shirts have found their way into the velvet lined drawers of my antique armoire. None stand in comparison against the weathered softness of my favorite t-shirt. Folds of cotton threads have been pulled and stretched from their original contour. Nevertheless‚ its flaws are cherished. Block letters that once read Nike are barely recognizable
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Ivory Koehn 9/10/2010 Descriptive Essay Under The Raised Hand Prologue When I was a young girl learning about life and love‚ I always thought that some man would sweep me off my feet and it was my fate to be with him and only him. My mother was not a big fan of love and fate. She didn’t have a very good history of guys and relationships. She would always tell us love was not a reality and we should find someone with a lot of money. My mother is a strong feminist woman and I tried as hard
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pairs of pants‚ 4 pairs of fuzzy socks‚ and boots could not keep me warm against the deathly cold. The walkway up to house were cracked. Weeds emerged out from these cracks. Briars were growing wildly in thick batches by the gate. The moonlight cast a scary glow on the house. Twisted vines ran up the side of house‚ reaching towards the roof. The house’s walls were rotting because of neglect. Splotches of original paint gave me flash backs to how this house used to be‚ even though I’ve never been here
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