"Descriptive writing my favourite personality" Essays and Research Papers

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    My Favourite Day of the Week I cannot say which day of the week is my favourite day because it is unknown how a day would end up. But still‚ school days are never days that I look forward to. School‚ homework and tuition classes burdens me. Excluding the schooldays‚ only Friday or Saturday would be my choice. The day I like the most‚ is Saturday. Saturday is perfectly placed at the last day of the week. As usual in the morning I would have to go to school for co-curriculum activities. Those activities

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    My Favourite Place In The World. My room keeps me relaxed and entertained for hours. To me‚ it feels like the safest place on the planet. Sometimes I like to sit and stare at the map of the world that hangs on my wall. I look at certain countries and imagine what life must be like there or think about which ones I would like to visit. It gives me a sense of peace to be able to look at the whole world at once from a distance like this. My wardrobe doors are a collage of cut outs from travel

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    9/17/12 Essa on M Favourite Teacher H OME A B OU T SI TE P RESERV E OU R A RTI CLE CONTENT QU A LI T GU I DELI NES DI SCLA I MER TOS CONTA CT U GUIDELINES About Site Content Qualit Guidelines Terms of Service Privac Polic Disclaimer Cop right Recent Articles Essa on M Favourite Teacher ROHIT AGARWAL De igne Sa ee Online sare e sba aar.com /Sare e s-183.htm l Bu Latest Designer Sarees Online. Free Shipping WorldWide. Order now! O ganic Fa ming www.acre

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    and Sydney in Australia but my personal favourite is the Brisbane-Gold Coast trip which also happens to be in Australia. I liked it very much since Gold Coast had 2 huge theme parks and an amazing water park. It was the 16th of December we were on our way to Dubai International Airport to board our 8 o’clock morning flight which was due to land at 6 o’clock the next morning in Brisbane‚ Australia. It was a 16 hour long journey! At Brisbane airport we were picked up by my aunt and we went to her house

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    Aquaw Descriptive Writing

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    beneath my steps. The torrid heat of the afternoon stung my skin‚ and the red sun in the sky blinded me. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck and I squinted my eyes. Painfully‚ I lifted my arm up to shade my gaze‚ a sigh escaping my dry lungs. Every day that I continued to live was repetitive - nothing ever changed. Every day I searched for some other form of human life‚ someone who I could at least share

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    instant‚ listening to my coach announce the swimmers competing in the next race. Uneasiness rushed down my spine the moment my coach pronounced my name. My first race began in less than fifteen hours. The months of training before my competition built my endurance and confidence in swimming. I was prepared to tackle my first competition. When it came time to perform‚ the crowd was silent. I was on a ledge that was three feet above the water. I stared at the crystal blue water and saw my reflection. I gripped

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    Storm Descriptive Writing

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    My family’s bright‚ white van‚ that is covered in stickers of various colors and shapes‚ rumbles down the rough road. I look out the window to see the vibrant green trees‚ the grass that is a light shade of brown‚ and the occasional red and brown dead possum lying down in the middle of the road. Then I look out the windshield and see the cloud covered‚ dark sky that warns us of an upcoming storm. As we approach our white house with paint peeling off‚ I look out upon our yard that is filled with various

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    Woods Descriptive Writing

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    The startling sounds of my alarm clock causes me to shoot forward from my bed. After my short lived panic I remember why I am waking up before the sun. I fumble through the darkness gathering my hunting gear before snatching up my shoes as I head towards the door. Pausing briefly in the cluttered mudroom‚ I pull my brown boots over my aching feet. I throw the door open and step into the misty fog. I look to my left and see the sun slowing coming over the horizon. I watch as it fades from a dark

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    Tyson Descriptive Writing

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    Germany’s crisp winter air crept beneath the door as the beige-brown blanket held me tight. My phone read 11:30 pm and my eyelids began to feel heavy and started to slide down like blinds on a window. My body jolted as my phone vibrated in my hand. Tyson had sent me a text. It sounds cliché but Tyson was my everything. He was as tall as a tree and whenever we walked together I felt like an ant next to a skyscraper. His eyes were made of little caramel candies and they sparkled when the sunlight hit

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    The colour black never represented me in any way‚ it had nothing to do with my nature‚ until now. Like an owl roaming around the lower east side of New York streets‚ we created the dark shadow of terror. Our masculine body armoured with a leather jacket and painted with absurd tattoos made society turn their heads towards the ground as we walk pass. As the sun goes down‚ the innocence of New York sleeps‚ while the predators hunt for their next victim. It was icy cold‚ yet we could bare it all.

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