Dear diary‚ as it is the first time I am writing to you‚ I would like to tell a little concerning myself. My name is Romeo‚ and I come from the Montague family‚ with my dad Mr. Montague and my mum Lady Montague. I am sixteen. Not that I have a high regard for myself‚ but I have to say that I am quite attractive‚ bright and sensitive. I live in the middle of a fierce fight between my family and the Capulet’s. This battle has started ages before I was born‚ and will keep on going for generations and
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vale and returning home. As we we’re walking back Gaius explained to me that the reason Marcus kept his apartment very sparse is because‚ as the building keeps catching fire‚ he can no longer afford to keep rebuying furniture. This will be my last diary entry before I return home tomorrow as I doubt I will have time to stop and write. I’ve had such an incredible time here experiencing urban life‚ although I have to admit‚ I miss my home even more… I can’t wait to get back! Segment of a letter …. Although
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Dear Diary‚ Through all this tough time I can’t imagine that I am still alive. I didn’t know that the area that I was in‚ was exposed to this extreme weather condition. In summer it’s was extremely hot‚ luckily that I am an Australian and already got used to this type of weather. Not only the summer weather condition had affected us however‚ now in winter the weather conditions had gotten worst. It turned out to be freezing cold‚ snow fall most of the time. We were unprepared and only have
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Life of a Slave in the Middle Passage Dear Diary‚ My name is Emem Okeke and I am 13 years old. I have just come off of a train transporting me to a plantation in America. I have been separated from all of my family (my mother‚ father‚ my brother and my sister) and I am most likely going to a different plantation. I was living in Sierra Leone when I got kidnapped. My tribe was a peaceful one‚ and we weren’t in any wars at the time‚ but while all of our tribe was asleep‚ another tribe ambushed us
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Dear Diary- 2/3/13 Today absolutely was the worst day of my life. I feel sad from the bottom of my heart because my father was found dead. I did not believe it when I had first heard the news‚ and still have trouble believing it. The tears keep coming in waves with sadness and I can’t help to stop them. I feel this foreign feeling starting to well in the pit of my stomach from all this grieving. My father was a great King and good human being who served his country well‚ I hope to be just as good
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My CAS Diary – Mountain bike riding with Mr. Wright This rather splendid activity I involved myself in took place in the rural district of Yarramundi. I accompanied ‘the boys’‚ Ben Irwin‚ David Wilkinson‚ Jordan Willis‚ Jarrod Quigley‚ Bailey McDougle and John Wright. This group had been forged through a Tabitha elective in which I was not involved with. Despite my absence during the genesis of this group‚ they warmly welcomed me into their ranks‚ as one of their own! They went as far to facilitate
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Jamestown Diary of William Wilkinson‚ Surgeon December 5‚ 1606 I am a surgeon. I give medicine to people who are sick. I use needles‚ medicine‚ scissors‚ and lots more stuff. I might take bullets out of people. I don’t really work with others except my assistant. My assistant brings people into my house. He helps me get the tools. My assistant’s name is Ben. I have a big family. I have a wife named Anne. She likes to cook bread. I have four children. Their names are James‚ Emily‚ Sarah‚ and Kathryn
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Dear Diary Right now I’m sitting in the Landie writing this. We’re on the way back from our first trip to Hell‚ bouncing along this remote road. This morning we woke up early to get our stuff packed. We have been staying down in Hell for the last five interesting days. Down in a little clearing surrounded by thick‚ dense scrub and a fresh cool nearby creek below Satan’s Steps. It’s the
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My Dearest Diary‚ It is hard to fathom the fact that Mrs. Fullerton’s house will be demolished by tomorrow. Danny and I had grown quite accustomed to the sight of chickens running astray amongst her apple and cherry trees. Nonetheless‚ the community members believe it is for the best…everyone is clearly excited about resale values increasing. Personally‚ I am disgusted that a vibrant old lady such as Mrs. Fullerton has to uproot her entire life due to the fact her existence is seen as an “eyesore”
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I dreamt of the rain. The same rain that filled my entire childhood. The same cold rain that showered down on the alleyways that I hid in‚ sloughing the grime off the walls and into whatever small crevice I would have been hiding in. I dreamt of the same drops of rain that poured like stones‚ the same stones that were thrown at the many beggars‚ like myself‚ living in the winding narrow streets of Aquillum. I found myself walking
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