|Memories of My Town | | | |When I recall the days | |That saw my childhood of yore | |Beside the verdant shore | |Of a murmuring lagoon; | |When I remember the sighs | |Of the breeze that on my brow | |Sweet and caressing did blow | |With coolness full of delight; | |
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Talk about your hometown The first memory of my home town is a small peaceful town with reasonable population encircled by hills and mountains‚ a road slithering on the North East Mountains to join it to Peshawar. I used to watch traffic lights on this road at night. The sight of traffic lights on that road fascinated me and I took them for fire worms chasing each other. The sound of water stream called Kohat Toi‚ coming from the North West out skirt of city‚ and howling of wolves which scared
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The winter wind blows cold across my fur pelt yet I am warm surrounded by those I know and our nomadic settlement fire. Our small‚ traveling clan has settled in southwestern Ohio for the winter. We are happy for now though we experience many dangers as the days grow colder. We have prepared for the changing season‚ ensuring that our food stores were full and our shelters would stand against the harsh weather to come. We have learned from the stories of winters before us. The clan elders speak of
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Khmer architecture and hundreds of bat in the pagoda backyard. Shoppers can go to Nga Nam floating market or night market to buy good specialities. If pagodas and markets are for the adults‚ there are also some interesting places for the youth such as My Phuoc ecotourism area‚ Binh An park or Fresh Water lake. Beside entertaining and shopping‚ tourists can also enjoy many special kinds of food in Soc Trang. “pia” cake‚ “bun mam” and “banh cong” are some good suggestions. Moreover‚ many festivals and
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My literacy started even before I was born. My mom was a big advocate for reading and writing so I had no choice but to enjoy it. My mom even got my name from a book she read just months before I was born. She was really enthusiastic about reading and still is to this day. Her and my aunt would constantly read to me hoping I would pick up a passion for reading like they did. I started reading at age three and writing at age four. I remember always seeing my mom reads these big books in a matter of
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To India – My native land is a poem by Henry Louis Vivian Derozio. Derozio lived during the early 19th century. He was a teacher‚ a scholar‚ a poet and an academician of Eurasian and Portuguese descent. He considered himself to be an Indian and encouraged free thinking among his students. He oversaw the publication of a journal in which his student wrote against the British rule in India‚ orthodox Hindu practices and favored emancipation of women. The journal was banned and Derozio lost his job due
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Write the short essay on places of interest in your town. The population of Kuala Lumpur is a unique and evenly balanced mixture of Malay‚ Chinese‚ Indian and sundry ethnicities. Conversations‚ manners and food throughout the city as well as the patience and insouciance to which travellers are exposed contain healthy doses of this cultural amalgamation. Batu Caves Kuala Lumpur is located approximately 11 kilometres to the north of Kuala Lumpur‚ Batu Caves is a limestone hill comprising three major
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Name: Erickson Mar T. Castilla Date: Nov. 22‚ 2012 Subject/Section: Engl05-EE Prof.: Aimee Layag Topic: Cebu my hometown Gen. Purpose: To Inform Spec. Purpose: To inform my audience the beauty of my hometown Cebu. Central Idea: The beauty of my home town Cebu are the Whale shark watching and the sceneries that you can see from the mountain top. Cebu is located in central visayas approximately 1 hour from manila via airplane‚ Cebu is known for delicious roasted pork and famous
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Fridays and Saturdays were my least favourite days of the week. The Friday morning always started out well but then it got worse throughout the day. By lunchtime‚ I usually had enough homework to last me another week! That wasn’t the worst part though. At the end of the day‚ I had to walk to the train station‚ catch the 5:05 train to Castle Hill and get the bus to my employer’s house. I stayed there until the next night‚ enduring an earful of screaming and wailing‚ struggling to get the little ones
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messengers came running up to the village to tell my father‚ Powhatan‚ that the white strangers‚ who had arrived in the three large canoes‚ were not leaving anytime soon. The strangers had asked for “a water supply and a place to stay” (Townsend‚ p. 4) signaling that they were here to stay. Our village of Werowocomoco has thrived under the leadership of my father‚ but people are worried that these white strangers will threaten our way of life. For my nine years alive I had seen these canoes pass by
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