In Jefferson Memorial hospital‚ two men‚ both seriously ill‚ occupied the same hospital room. It was a small room‚ no bigger than 10 by 12 feet. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room’s only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back‚ all he could see was the ceiling‚ curtain track and the face of the nurse when she bent over him. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their
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start to cook the beef. As I am cooking the noodles‚ the spaghetti sauce is being warmed up. When the beef and sauce are complete‚ I add them together. After the noodles are looking quite flexible‚ I throw one against the wall to see if it sticks‚ if it does I take it off the wall and slurp it up like I would on a slurpee. When all the elements of my superb spaghetti recipe are complete‚ I add them all together. Then serve the delicious meal to my mother and I. After eating the meal I have served‚
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Who are the women of Brewster Place? Mattie‚ Ciel‚ Etta Mae‚ Kiswana‚ Cora Lee‚ Lorraine‚ and Theresa. Each of these women will tell their experience while living in Brewster Place‚ a big brownstone blocked by a brick wall on a dead end street. Mattie is the mother figure in the apartment building. Mattie grew up in Tennessee ‚ where she lived a sheltered life with her mother and over protective father. One day Mattie and Butch Fuller‚ a man her father despised‚ went to pick sugar cane. Butch seduces
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THE MANSION In the middle of the night‚ the shadows creeping up to them‚ they are numb. The mansion has been abandoned about 20 years. Many people say that the whole family has been murdered mysteriously. The culprit behind the scene is still unknown. It is a windy night‚ the wolves are howling endlessly. Zayn wrap his hand around Marzia. They are just walking back from the movies. Zayn give out a sigh. He firmly holds Marzia arms. The corner of his eyes searching for a glimpse of the
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being- innocence‚ then knowledge of the wrongness‚ and in the end- acceptance and resolution. 2. I found the poem encouraging because after all the “walls” that stood in Hughes way‚ and the desperation he had‚ Hughes did not give up to his suppressors and fought his way to be free‚ in his own way- by poetry. “My dark hands! Break through the wall!” 3. The skill of Distinguishing Different Perspectives added to my understanding of the poem by understanding the poet writing about his dream from
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In the poem ’Mending Wall’ by Robert Frost‚ the poet considers the value or otherwise‚ of boundaries. In contemplating whether good fences make good neighbors‚ he is including all barriers and boundaries in that - including walls. He is concerned that the saying may be becoming so popular - and spouted so often - that it is fast becoming trite. He wonders whether properties are always of sufficient threat to each other as to always demand some kind of barrier. Apples are no threat to cattle for example
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Reading “The Yellow wall paper made me feel small and vulnerable. Feelings that woman of that time were often privy too. My point of view on myself and the world didn’t change but I was reminded of how privileged I am to live in a world that values women. Gilman makes it clear that John’s patronizing and paternalistic conduct toward his wife has little to do with her illness. He dismisses her clever opinions and her “flights of fancy” with equivalent scorn‚ while he demeans her innovative compulsions
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meeting to find her repetitively kicking the moss covered cell wall‚ an action I’ve watched her do a million times‚ as if she believes that one day her kicks will break the wall‚ as if she believes that she will escape‚ as if she still has hope. Her kicks become more aggressive and her hair has flown from her tightly knotted ponytail and the flaming red ends are whipping and burning her back. Finally she gives up‚ slides down the wall and her tears extinguish her burning hair‚ a sign of weakness she
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As I heard Montresor calling my name I stayed silent in the pitch black darkness of this trap.Still yearning for the Amontillado that I was deprived and tricked into thinking was in this cellar I waited until I thought he was far long gone into the chambers I started to look around as my eyes started to adjust to the darkness of the cellar in which I was fettered.I saw a key it was far out of my reach but if I stretched as far as I could I would be able to reach it.Since Montresor only put the
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party‚ some of us went to Sandra’s house to decorate the place. We paid attention to all the details‚ covering the lights with colored cellophane paper and even decorating the trays with tinsel. We also put up all kinds of weird decorations on the wall to give the place an eerie look. At end of the day‚ our efforts were rewarded for the place did look rather like Countess Dracula’s home – so Sandra’s father said. Most of the guests arrived punctually‚ eager to get the party going. Everyone had
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