these changes have had on the design and construction of two new building types‚ namely the railway station and prison. * This essay argues that the design and construction of railway stations in England had to be adapted to the changes wrought by the Industrial Revolution‚ such as widespread rural-urban migration‚ rapid urban growth and rising affluence in English society. On the pragmatic side‚ station builders also had to look for alternative materials resistant to corrosion from steam and smoke
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English Descriptive Writing The Orphanage The intimidating building brought terror through the walls. Moist beds from the children’s room from the endless nights of unnerving thoughts. The house represented nothing else but desperateness and loneliness. Happiness. The children will never achieve happiness. The house was distracting to all parents. The dull‚ dark walls took away the light from the depressed kids. It was like the light gave hope like a endless tunnel of loneliness with a spark of light
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EXECUTIVE SUMMARY Pakistan Railways (reporting mark PR) is a national state-owned rail transport service of Pakistan‚ head-quartered in Lahore. It is administered by the federal government under the Ministry of Railways. PR provides an important mode of transportation throughout Pakistan. It is commonly referred to as the "life line of the country"‚ by aiding in large-scale movement of people and freight throughout Pakistan.Pakistan Railways (PR) is the state owned railway company of Pakistan. It is
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Descriptive Writing As you enter the park by pushing its big black gate you can hear the shouting of kids and the air is filled with the voices of people. On the left and right hand side there are many trees with people sitting under them reading books or having picnics. In front there is a path that goes straight and then divides into two‚ one going to the left and the other to the right. If you take the right path you could hear the shouting of children louder than before. There are kids running
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English Descriptive Writing I was walking motionlessly scanning the street going to the shops‚ it was completely dark‚ the pavements felt as if they were asleep as it was so quite. I arrived at the shop reached down and picked up the ice cold milk white as a ghost. I purchased the milk with a two pound coin‚ as i was about to leave 4 youths hooded up and covering their faces also entered the shop and i could smell the overpowering smell of cannabis . I kept a safe distance from them. I walked
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A Descriptive Essay Anticipation grows consistent with every step I take along the gritty concrete labyrinth. Beneath a blazing sun‚ the smell of baked asphalt‚ sugary cola‚ and pretzel surround me. I follow the unpainted‚ gray chain fence that leads me forward. Overhead the deafening whirl of metal and screams briefly fill the hot air. The consistent drone of greasy motors and hissing pneumatics engage my curiosity. My heart rushes like a child on Christmas morning about to receive a favorite
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words never to be heard. Nothingness. 3600 seconds earlier. In an infinite sky above the night lay motionless; even though the clouds that had hung low and grey had cleared the stars still refused to shine. Despite the station once being rather ostentatious and resplendent the station now had an air of austerity and neglect; the black paint was slowly peeling off the baroque pillars and the white line
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Without hesitation‚ riding in a bus is the most boring‚ gloomy places I can imagine being in since it has haunted consecutive saturday mornings. I sat eerily awaiting the early 6:00 bus. The hard cheap metal bench rests uneasy beneath me. I loom in darkness seeing as the rising sun hid fearfully beneath the bleak clouds. The only lights in sight are are the dim streetlights across from me and the faint glow from my phone display. Weakly off in the distance the sound of the crosswalk signal rings
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delved into the written word I began to recognize writing as a powerful tool for expression. I turned to poetry and short stories to capture childhood moments‚ expanding my vocabulary and becoming skilled at transferring raw emotions and ideas onto paper. My parents encouraged me to make frequent trips to the library‚ and I often staggered home beneath the weight of a pile of novels. When I entered high school as a published author and poet‚ my writing continued to mature. Although I still marveled
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My buckling legs trudge towards the fireplace to resume my task.The aching in my back resorts to unbearable as my hand reaches for the metal bucket.I squeeze the side of my rib in hopes of lessening the pain but it gets worse. It gets really worse. Unable to bear it any longer‚my knees buckle and I fall on the hardwood floor.My hands grip my sides‚hoping to stop the sudden pain‚but my attempts are futile. My bones crack as I crouch down in agony.But I know I can’t stay on the floor any longer
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