Recommended: West african culture and traditions
The author describes the beautiful sound of air; she places value on her partner's life, considers him to be precious. She also mentions
The mood of this story is tense, melancholy, and mournful as proved by this quotation: “Odd, she thought, how intensely you knew a person, or thought you did, when you were in love-soaked, drenched in love- only to discover later that perhaps you didn’t know that person quite as well as you had imagined. Or weren’t quite as well known as you had hoped to be.”
“Then the mood, like the evening ocean fog now clouding the street lamps, closed around her.” (Page 183)
She wrapped her finger in a Wet Wipe and got into the driver’s seat dreading the trip home. As the car backed down the lane, she took one last glimpse at the house and added saving the roses to her list. She wanted the sweet fragrance of flowers to fill the rooms at Glendara. To restore the homestead would be a major undertaking.
she did not know what was that feeling, the meaning of love was unknown. But on the other hand the respect and loyalty for Mr. Grierson was immovable. That doubt made her make a decision. She made it, and her choice was horrible and great, too, because she did not married with a worker, so she did not dissapointed her father, but on the other hand she did not threw her love away.
I woke up that day to the sound a couple talking to each other about right and wrong. I turn to my wife and said “Janice remember when we were that young and naive.” She didn’t reply I assumed she must still be sleeping. I laid back on this old pile of cotton and sheets that we called a bed for the past fifty years. I still had the shoes she made me for our wedding day.
The riotous laughing and deafening volume of the music had made the teacups shudder and the walls crumble. A Cantonese folk song had flashed onto the screen, and the male members occupying the room roared out the lyrics; possessed by the copious amounts of rice wine they had consumed. Like a gaggle of geese we giggled together, me situated against the corner, and the performers shamelessly going off pitch against the glare of the bright television set in the karaoke room. The wives smiled with rapture at first, but it grew simultaneously to a chorus of laughter as each voice added to the sound inside the room, which swelled and rose to an ear splitting crescendo with the song’s climax.
Mama always said I 'm special and I 'm gonna make her proud one day, using all six senses. I used my eyes to watch cars pass by. Using my ears to listen to prostitutes stop to introduce. Smelled a brief of fresh cash out of a Gucci bag. Ugh, what a disgusting taste of his.
The Rose Parade is a beloved American New Year’s tradition that has enchanted me for as long as I can remember. As a first generation immigrant who traveled six thousand miles to start a new life, I never dreamed that I would have the chance to participate in such an incredible tradition. But, in 2015, my color guard teammates and I marched in the world-renowned event. The opportunity to be a part of the Rose Parade with an organization that meant so much to me remains one of my most memorable life experiences. But my road to the Rose Parade was a long and hard one, paved with many trials and life lessons along the way.
Bro. Bro! Listen to the kids. First of all, thank you, Taylor, for being so gracious and giving me this award this evening.
With Ulrich and Carina’s wedding over, Joan hoped simpler, less stressful times lay ahead, and sensed his wife and friends felt the same. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to live with some degree of boredom and monotony after having endured such turmoil and strife for the last year? That would be a welcome respite. She prayed the most devastating thing she’d observe during the next several months was an infected boil.
First of all, I will like to thank many of the people who supported me to get all the way to here. If my friends, family, has stopped me from taking this risk, I would not be able to stand here right now. My parents allowed me to still get educated and tried to get closer to my dreams. My friends never made me the negative thought, in which that opposing to Taliban is not impossible. I cannot explain words how I really appreciate to these people.
I drag my avatar to the noise of animated voices. It ends up there's a celebration in complete swing. Little pages of text explain the scene to me, each paragraph sewing itself nicely to the last. I exist with alternatives. Do I wish to get in the Festival of Thieves, or reverse and return the method I came?
As I sit here inside of a red, elegant, and sparkling tent woven with an abundant amount of lights, I think about my future. To the left of me, I hear aunties gossiping about what her daughter did. They had such vivid details you would think they were CNN reporters. To the right of me, I hear uncles trying to hit on aunties. I hear remarks that would get me shunned for saying out loud and I hear comments that would disappoint their scrawny malnourished children.
Most children will tell you how terrible siblings are. Except me. My family consisted of my parents, my dog, and me. That’s it. Now, being shy may have another source, but I always say it’s because I’m an only child.