| Descriptive Essay | Rough draft | | Gatewood‚ Jasmine | 10/12/2012 | Myself: Person Hello kitty collection thing Homemade spaghetti food Downtown Dallas place Jasmine Gatewood English 0331.2 Ms. Fischel 10/12/12 Description Essay Downtown Dallas home of the dart and the drug dealers on every corner‚ my friends and I used to visit regularly to have a nice chipotle dinner. When you are hear you cannot help but‚ visit the many food places‚ and cultural
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Descriptive Essay Hearts were racing‚ twelve to be exact‚ lungs were being constricted tighter and tighter with every second that went by‚ joints were being pushed to their limits as their limbs stretched the farthest they could reach‚ and yet these twelve people were still able to ignore their injuries. All they revealed was happiness. There was no pain to be seen. No acknowledgement of misery because they all knew they only had those two minutes and thirty seconds to give it their all. Any sense
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favorite place. It’s where I was born and bred and I try to make it a point to go back and visit at least once a year. I grew up with my parents and five siblings on a farm in rural Iowa. “Iowa ranks first in beef‚ pork‚ corn‚ soybean‚ and grain production” (Department of Economic Development)‚ so you can imagine how busy farm life is. It didn’t seem fun as a kid‚ waking up at the crack of dawn to do chores before school only to have more chores to do when we came home. Lucky for us there were
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Icesus Holland Brenda White English 101 16 September 2013 Descriptive Essay The beach is one of the most beautiful places in the world. Before visiting‚ I had only been to the four states‚ which is the stringy grassy fields‚ the forest of trees‚ the smelly white and black cows and pink curly tailed pigs. See I had never seen any other states but Missouri‚ Kansas‚ Oklahoma‚ and Arkansas. I love the picture in my head but it was nice to finally see something different. When my boyfriend
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My Great-Grandparent’s Farm My Great-Grandparent’s farm is tucked away in the rural village of Mt. Calvary‚ Wisconsin. Mt. Calvary is a small densely populated village consisting of primarily dairy farmers of German Catholic decent‚ that lies in the vast rolling green hills of South-East Wisconsin. My Great-Grandparent’s farm has always been a very special place. It is also a place to go to find peace and serenity when life is overwhelming and hectic. My Great-Grandfather hand built the
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Ivory Koehn 9/10/2010 Descriptive Essay Under The Raised Hand Prologue When I was a young girl learning about life and love‚ I always thought that some man would sweep me off my feet and it was my fate to be with him and only him. My mother was not a big fan of love and fate. She didn’t have a very good history of guys and relationships. She would always tell us love was not a reality and we should find someone with a lot of money. My mother is a strong feminist woman and I tried as hard
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College Writing 2 October 2012 Descriptive Essay A compact two-door car might not mean a lot to someone‚ but to me‚ working and improving my car is my favorite thing to do. When I am not inside my house or hanging out with my friends‚ you’ll be sure to find me working or cleaning my car. For most people‚ leaving their car stock is passable for their needs‚ but to me it’s not. My car is modified which makes it one of a kind. My car consists of its exterior‚ interior‚ and performance level
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We got through the first few songs smoothly. In the middle of our concert after a song‚ where the boys were on the stage with the girls Mrs. Johns‚ my music teacher rushed us boys up the bleachers. The moment I am just about to describe is a bit of a blur to me. I remember walking up the bleachers and stepping on the 3rd and last bleacher then falling right through an opening in it. These bleachers had 3 rows‚ like stairs but wide. On the 3rd bleacher there is a bar supporting
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Composition 2 Descriptive Although worn out and beaten thin‚ my favorite t-shirt reigns supreme. Its rugged exterior presents a shabby disposition. Many new t-shirts have found their way into the velvet lined drawers of my antique armoire. None stand in comparison against the weathered softness of my favorite t-shirt. Folds of cotton threads have been pulled and stretched from their original contour. Nevertheless‚ its flaws are cherished. Block letters that once read Nike are barely recognizable
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with each passing hour spent in the air‚ high above the earth. Though my sons and I had a planned five day excursion‚ I still couldn’t stop wondering what might still lie ahead. Would it be something about this new culture I was about to experience; or would it be something more‚ something about me? After clearing customs and retrieving our luggage‚ we still had the daunting tasks of maneuvering through the hordes of people and locating our tour guide. The sounds of luggage being dragged across
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