I. INTRODUCTION A bookcase‚ or bookshelf‚ is a piece of furniture‚ almost always with horizontal shelves‚ used to store books. It may be fitted with glass doors. A bookcase consists of a unit including two or more shelves which may not all be used to contain books or other printed materials. Shelves may be fixed or adjustable to different positions in the case. In rooms entirely devoted to the storage of books they may be permanently fixed to the walls and/or floor. Bookcases frequently have doors
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It is the hour to be drunken! to escape being the martyred slaves of time‚ being ceaselessly drunk.on war‚ on poetry‚ on virtue as you wish. reads Roy. Midnight approaches‚ and while the peak of activity has passed‚ the city whine’s; a soporific noise neither rises nor falls but is pregnant with trepidation. Inside a room‚ its dark and unnoticeable; but adequate light fills the room as we adjust to the darkness. White wall depict a picture frame like window‚ in that black and luminous square; life
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It was early summer when my uncle and his wife came over from Australia. I and my uncle had always gotten on quite well‚ we have always had a connection‚ so when we found out in spring 2013 that he had a very dangerous form of cancer we were extremely worried about him. Before he moved to Australia with his wife he once had a job working in an old factory in town‚ the moment he said that I knew exactly which one he was on about‚ I had been in it before but not for a while. It had been abandoned and
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♡ "Il n’y a qu’un bonheur dans la vie‚ c’est d’aimer et d’être aimé." ♡ - George Sand "There is only one happiness in life. To love and to be loved." The air is cold but the trees are on fire. The quiet avenue was gilded with red and gold yet the leaves hadn’t yet started to fall. An autumn breeze swept through the air and danced with the scarlet leaves. The streets‚ evenly lined with trees donned with golden hues‚ looked like that out of a picture. Everything was beautiful in this moment in
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He charges towards the white horizon. He sprints‚ unknownst to what awaits him at the end. Being next to the sand makes him feel empty and although he does not completely know why he’s running‚ he does know he doesn’t want to be near it. The sand makes him feel as if he’s lost something that he cannot recover and rather than face it‚ he runs. He races for a while‚ never looking back‚ trying to depart from the unwanted feelings. Without warning‚ he hears in a far away voice behind him.“Stay in the
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On the summer of 1939 aged about nine years old lived in París. That summer came aunt’s Ester‚ my mother‚ older sister to visit us from Switzerland‚ with her husband‚ Uncle Samuel and my cousins‚ Aaron and Issac. Lived with my grandparents‚ my mother’s parents‚ my grandfather’s Elijah‚ who all called The Patriarch. My grandmother’s Miriam and we called her Nanou. In the 4th district of Paris‚ one block from the Rue du rosier in the Jewish quarter of Paris; Rue Francs Bourgeois it’s located our
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Oh Lord‚ what has this hellscape made us into. Beasts of our basest instincts no longer able to help one another? Gone are the days of community and respect. Now we live only for ourselves and our survival. I can only think of the agony my husband must be in knowing he died in this tragic place with only me to mourn him. No neighbors came knocking to give their comfort to me. The women I would have once called sisters have abandoned me in my time of need. I waited and waited for them to come to no
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It’s the middle of December and I’m convinced I’m dying of depression. Not the depression where I sulk in my bed all day long but the kind where I’m in desperate need of some sort of excitement in life. Mid semester finals are just about over and I’m already drowning in work for all of my classes for next semester. I’m seventeen and seventeen year olds should not have to deal with this much stress in their lives. I mean between Spanish and Statistics‚ I think I might be the first teen to die from
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I don’t know to what extent it had been there‚ remaining there‚ before me‚ or on the off chance that I had been there previously. I saw one evening to turn upward from my daily paper‚ behind the blind that serves as the window dress before my most loved seat. It was an unusual shadow‚ an outline simply drawn. I felt no trepidation‚ interest‚ on the grounds that I thought it would be a fantasy of my eyes estranged by the columns of letters like ants wandered the whitish leaves day by day. I flickered
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Oh right‚ oh Oh why na-da-da-da I keep my head high I got my wings to carry me I don’t know freedom I want my dreams to rescue me I keep my faith strong I ask The Lord to follow me I’ve been unfaithful I don’t know why You call on me This is my canvas I’m a paint it how I want it baby‚ oh I This is my canvas I’m a paint it‚ paint it‚ paint it‚ how I want it nigga Fuck you cause there There is no right or wrong Only a song I like to write alone Be in my zone Think back to Forest Hills‚ no perfect
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