Slowly‚I got down from my bed and tiptoed to the window.A slight of cool breeze whipped to my ears.Dead leaves rattled in the wind.There was a stony prickling silence except for the eerie sound of chilly wind howling in the air.Goosebumps sprouted on my skin all over my frail body.A sliver of moonlight glimmered through the wind‚slicing my pallid face.Slowly‚I swept my dry face and sighed heavily.I had same dream that haunted me for years .A streak of remorse jabbed into my soul.A purged of guilt
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Write out his diary entry . Dear Diary ‚ I have to ask you to excuse my handwriting ‚ I know this is probably illegible . My hands are shaking so violently but I feel like if I don’t write this down and get it out of my head that I will explode like a bomb . I have been mad before ‚ I have been angry and I have experienced emotions of hatred but never like this . My soul ‚my very being is so full of pure rage . It goes beyond the most destructive kind of anger ‚ goes way
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It was a beautiful fall weekend; the sunlight shined enough to provide just the right amount of warmth to make it the perfect picnic day. I was on my way to meet my parents for the annual South Florida Police and Fire bar-b-que. I knew that there was a chance that he would be there since a good part of his family is fire fighters. I have been organizing‚ planning‚ helping‚ running‚ and attending this event ever since I can remember‚ and there had only been a few times that he showed up because the
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YouTube‚ Netflix and Television… Have you ever been so overwhelmed with the pandemonium of the 21st century lifestyle and just needed time to unwind‚ unplug‚ regroup‚ or just take a deep breath? When I am in this state of mind‚ I know what I have to do. My security lies with the familiar sent of farm animals‚ small family owned shops‚ rocky back-roads flattened by cars playing country songs‚ and houses smeared across acres of fields. Our roots lie in our hometowns. Mine lie in a peaceful little town nestled
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9/11 I was late again. I remember rising from my slumber with great regret and ordering my zombiefied body to make its way toward the bathroom. I hated my job‚ it’s not like I was important just an assistant‚ running around being everyone’s slave and taking orders. And what made it worst.. It was my first day at this new job in the north tower of the world trade centre. The time was half eight when I finally managed to start making my way towards the tower. I had to scurry though large crowds of
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How My Big Fat Greek Wedding can be viewed in relationship to anthropological concepts of endogamy and family acceptance of marriage to non-Greek partners Professor Rebecca D. Gorman People and Cultures of the World - ANT 3212 University of North Florida By Laurie Kirkland April 14‚ 2013 How My Big Fat Greek Wedding can be viewed in relationship to anthropological concepts of endogamy and family acceptance of marriage to non-Greek partners Introduction My Big Fat Greek Wedding
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year 2010 Question 1 (h) 12 August 2012 Today is the 100th days after I left my hometown. Even after months‚ I am still alone living here and repeat the same routine again and again. I couldn’t make myself here as my home. Every day I pretend I am happy to be here‚ the city where people amaze to come here. I miss my hometown‚ I miss my family‚ and I miss me who can make herself connect to the people in Australia‚ my hometown. This is a beautiful country where romance lingers in the air. I love
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My First Day My first day of college was a disaster. First‚ I went to the wrong classroom for math. I was sitting in the class‚ surrounded by people taking notes and paying attention to how to do equations‚ which would have been okay if I was supposed to be in an algebra class. In reality‚ I was supposed to be in geometry‚ and when I discovered my error‚ I had already missed the first twenty minutes of a one-hour class. When I got to the correct class‚ all twenty-five students turned
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night from Leavenworth to Overland Park‚ Kansas gave me some time to think. I just dropped off my younger son‚ Andrew‚ for a five-day personal development seminar‚ and I welcomed the chance to remember a similar night six years ago. Andrew‚ I concluded‚ was fortunate. Attending as a 17-year-old would give him valuable resources he could use for his entire life. I received these same tools shortly after my 41st birthday. Not that I’m unappreciative to have received these tools later in life‚ just
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Why people save stamps All of my friends think that saving stamps is the most boring hobby a person can have. They think that it is a waste of time. Moreover they think that by this one can gain nothing. But my point of view doesn’t match with them. There are several reasons behind saving stamps. First‚ saving stamps is a unique hobby and it’s a tough job too. It’s unique because most of the people have other hobbies like gardening‚ reading books‚ listening music etc and it’s a tough job because
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