Personal Narrative: Alex Turing's Death

After the band perfmorance, my lips were dry and burned bright red; the skin was flaky, peeling horribly, and blood drizzled from the tired cracks. My tired eyes, worn from the continous reading of fast-paced rhythms, ached from the bright lights and dehydration gnawed at every part of me. On the car ride home, I felt, truly, like I had just walked across the Sahara Desert, only to be forced to walk back again. Playing trombone for three hours tends to have such an effect. However, it didn’t take long until we - which included my family and I - made it back to our house. I unbuckled my seatbelt with lazy hands, only supported by fatigued wrists, and was barely able to lug myself from the seat and to the door. Upon making it inside, however, it was much to my parent’s discontent that I did not stop for a glass of water or food or even the slightest bit of chapstick. Instead, I threw my weary self onto the couch, grabbed the remote for the television and clicked “resume”; on the screen, Alex Turing was solving the Nazi Enigma code. As I sat licking my lips and stretching, I was careful to take note of how the characters acted and behaved at pivotal intervals. Actors and actresses were the second best thing to real people, and gave me great insight into the everchanging riddle that is human
There are many things that one may not know about me, such as: I play trombone and baritone for multiple bands and ensembles, my favorite movie is “The Imitation Game”, and I enjoy watching and learning about