I am originally from Sioux City‚ Iowa which is known as “Little Chicago”. Sioux city is a small city with a population of 82‚459. Sioux city is the fourth largest city in Iowa and is known for having a large volume of cornfields. I have lived in Sioux City my whole entire life and it is a boring city. There isn’t much someone could do. Downtown is small and we don’t have a lot of varieties of restaurants to choose from. Then are mall only has one floor and has a few stores to shop from and the only
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Descriptive Writing- Brodie Dashwood Rocking from side to side‚ I ran away from every problem I had in my life that was suffocating me. Now part of this included when I had to risk my life in need for that freedom I had been craving. My journey began 20 years ago‚ 5 whole years before I was locked down in the world’s highest security prison. I was ordered to the place that I considered hell on earth contained by a wall the height of a sky scraper drenched in high voltage barbed wire. Still to this
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screaming and crying for help‚ and in some cases‚ the unimaginable happened. The dark smoke was becoming as thick as blood‚ and rising at a rapid pace. The taste and smell of smoke filled my throat as well as the sky‚ making New York City look like a dark‚ gloomy‚ depressed city. Which at the time‚ was exactly what it was. I was on the highest level of the world trade center‚ but I was determined to live. What I did next was not only a surprise to everyone around me‚ but a surprise to myself. Yes‚ I jumped
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the coast every evening‚ and I watched‚ perched on my tiny balcony. The grown-ups were big on doing things we couldn’t do in Illinois. Hiking through mountains‚ seeing the city‚ and avoiding the sharp shells on the beach were apparently on our to-do
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Descriptive writing on satis house As I approached Satis house inside of my carriage I could feel the nerves growing inside of me. I got close to the rusted gates and stopped I had to get out and walk up to the old withered gates. I felt my feet stick to the ground and I found it quite hard to breath. The sounds around me was getting very load like I was standing next to a roaring plane even know I was getting further away I could hear the crows in the background and the snorting horses. When
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Even though I have ridden the Magical Express bus from Orlando Airport many times‚ I always vibrate with excitement as I crane my neck out the window to get my first glimpse of Space Mountain. The monorail zooms beside our bus‚ pointing the way to the Magic Kingdom. Finally‚ we reach the sign announcing our arrival at the Magic Kingdom. When we walk through the dark tunnel at the front gate‚ it always feels as if I am entering another world. I see Pluto hugging a boy and signing autographs.
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amateur photography does not accurately illustrate my memory of that day’s beauty or do the scenery justice. Our satisfied smiles neglect to describe the details of nine blisters on her feet or of sleeping only five hours on the cold‚ lumpy ground the night before. I had moved to Idaho seven months earlier and this was my maiden voyage into the Idaho wilderness. Despite my silent discomfort and green-horn status in the world of backpacking‚ this picture identifies in my heart the first time I felt as
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people. Where we lived‚ was an odd place‚ the people there were very friendly‚ but sometimes too friendly‚ getting in the way of your private life‚ asking personal questions that you didn’t really know how to answer. But on this particular night‚ a humid night at that‚ there was absolutely no sound to be heard. Not even the squeal of a tyre edging around the street corner‚ or the cackle of an old man passing by. Feeling the aching in my wrists turn to a sharp pain‚ I peered down at the several plastic
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such “small” presents as $100 Lego or a Barby’s house in 6 rooms and garden furniture. Therefore‚ I thought that Disney Land was a good invention for loving parents.” The Sacred Grove of Oshogbo by Jeffrey Tayler The following essay contains descriptive language that helps to paint a vivid picture for the reader of an encounter with a man. “As I passed through the gates I heard a squeaky voice. A diminutive middle-aged man came out from behind the trees — the caretaker. He worked a toothbrush-sized
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Absolutely nothing in this known world can break the silence—the room was lifeless. The floorboard painfully cries under the teacher’s fantastic high-heeled shoes; it invades the monastic stillness. Under the scrawls of a madman‚ written in a jet-black marker that has seen the end of its days a long time ago‚ slivers of the once pure whiteboard remains. My eyes dart towards the window as I stare at the barren tree branches; they shiver‚ afraid‚ in the thick cold and velvety air of winter. As my stoic
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