Puffy clouds were floating on the radiant blue sky. The murky‚ sticky air surrounded the peaceful New York. Contaminated ominous smoke belch out from skyscrapers across the river. Rigid cement was about to melt down‚ animals stayed underground and people began sweltering as if they were the farmers below the fierce sun. Smoothly‚ the breeze danced over the resting people sitting on the wooden wall nearby Hudson River. The day was quiet as the grave to a wonder. The clear blue sky contrasted itself
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As a young girl‚ I experienced what at the time I thought was the end of the world. Yes‚ I was a little bit of a drama queen. At the age of eleven‚ and on my way to a ballet recital a woman who was careless pulled under an awning in a non-parking zone in front of The Girls Club. I was running to catch up with my group. I looked left and right and proceeded to walk under the awing to the parking lot across from the building. From the corner of my eye’s I saw a white car pull up in front of me very
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Black Dog is based off of a stream of concious I did in February during one of my many routine walks through a cemetery near my house. It was night time‚ and everything was cold and damp. But the moon made this atmosphere that I just loved that I had to write about it. It should also be noted that it was around valentine’s day and I was thinking about my “perfect” mate (don’t judge me‚ you’ve done that before) This piece is also about on how I would be a “perfect” mate‚ and how I would have to change
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As I wake up lying in my bed doused in sweat from the nightmare I just had‚The same Nightmare that I have every night the last thing I ever saw. The accident. Before the accident I was a normal kid no scars‚ no getting made fun of and certainly wasn’t blind. I didn’t want another day of getting made fun of just because I was different. Still I got out of my sweat drenched bed and got ready for another day of dread. I barely made it to the bus and I sat in the first seat I found with nobody in it
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It’s almost last call. It has reached the point in the night where the sensible members of society have left‚ leaving only the hopeless drunks and a few young couples too lost in trivial conversation to realize the bar is closing soon. That’s a lie. This place doesn’t bring in any sensible people‚ in fact it hardly brings anyone in at all anymore. I like to remember how it used to be—so full of life and genuinely pleasant—and pretend that’s still the way it is. But this bar in particular‚ which I
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I inhaled the night time city smells of street food‚ sweat‚ cigarettes‚ and garbage‚ as I stepped toward the bus. I hadn’t taken two steps before someone shoved me to the side and dashed down the street weaving through people like a true professional. I tottered and nearly fell‚ but I kept my balance. Annoyed‚ I swept my gaze throughout the crowd and saw the rude stranger- a young man‚ maybe in his late teens‚ with thick black hair‚ dressed in a dark gray t-shirt and jeans. For a moment‚ he looked
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The Beach by Alex Garland portrays a form of tourism where it differentiates the authentic experiences of a traveller to a tourist. Danny Boyle’s(2000) adaptation depicts an American backpacker‚ Richard‚ who seeks to discover beyond the sightseeing of typical tourists. Upon following a series of unfortunate events on an island‚ the article examines how the film has shaped a diverse audience’s interpretation of cultural travel. The Tourist Gaze (2002) by John Urry reinforces Richard’s motivation to
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Eagle River No wifi. No Service. No way to connect to the outside world except through the ancient landline phone hanging on the wall labeled with the numbers of the Eagle River library‚ the home phone‚ and pizza take out. The door screeches open; the rustic smell of the cabin fills the air and the aged wooden floor gives a small creak when stepped on. The two cabins have room to hold three families at a time‚ however the quick race to claim the rooms soon begins. As always‚ the kids end up in the
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A dozen squealing‚ laughing little girls tugged my arms‚ legs and hands. They were so excited to show me their bedroom. Meeting all the orphans at the Colima‚ Mexico orphanage was very overwhelming and very emotional. At first‚ I felt very out of place‚ like seeing grass during a Michigan winter. All these kids surrounding me right now have no families and have nobody to love them. These kids were all beautiful in their own way and really knew how to make you smile without even trying.They were like
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There ’s always that early morning rush and panic when you think you’re all set to go on holiday. You check you have packed everything and that the young children are settled and securely strapped in to their seats. As you drive away from the house your mind is going over a list of belongings you have packed when you realize you ’ve forgotten something. Luckily you’re only a few minutes down the road so your dad turns round and drives back. Of course there is always one person who has forgotten to
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