Adolescent to Adult
To write a descriptive essay about dilapidated/abandoned house and how people should take great care of their homes before it will become derelict or decrepit. rhetorical devices:
Personification : deserted loathsome houses
light peeked out
Similes : a house is like an child
white paint and dust lay on the surface walls like dirty snow
Metaphors : roof resembled a forest floor
I’ve always found something fascinating about seeing an old dilapidated house along the side of a winding road, they spark my curiosity but most of all give me the shivers. thesis:
How someone could be so neglectful towards their living space... wondering what kind of monstrous human being would allow that to happen. sight:
... steam rising up from the black tarred streets
...the smell of musky body odour lingering in the hot summer air... sound:
The sound of babies crying and kids shouting...
NOTE: phrases highlighted are being modified to the phrases shown in brackets. (I’ve always found something fascinating about seeing an old dilapidated house along a winding road, they spark my curiosity.) Something about the fascination of dilapidated houses along winding roads sparks my curiosity but most of all give me shivers. (I stare; captivated by the sight) looking at the sight of the crippled abandoned house wondering what kind of monstrous human being would enable that to happen. The sight of overgrown weeds, rotten window sills and newly established spider webs makes my spine tingle. It makes me nauseous when walking along trails that back off to (that lead to deserted houses) loathsome houses. Questioning myself, the thought of how someone could be so neglectful towards their living environment. A house is like an infant it must be pampered and cared for with great responsibility or else it will become derelict and decrepit. I guess I could say that my fears of abandoned houses began on my trip to France when I had just turned eight: during one late afternoon in Paris, the sun was shining and the temperature was at its peak. I could see the steam rising up from the black tarred streets as the sun relentlessly shone down. As I looked around, all I could see was a mass of people pushing, shoving, babies crying and kids shouting. I could smell the musky aroma of body odour that was lingering through the hot summer air, this combined with the fish heads I saw sitting in cold ice, which was making my stomach turn. With crowds beginning to pile up around the busy downtown street market my dad decided to bring my older sister and me somewhere less overwhelming. Eager to get out, (escape the crowd) I immediately grabbed the container of wild red berries, and placed it in my tattered but beloved knapsack. We elbowed our way through the tiny gaps of open space, as my father protectively clinched my hand, dragging me through the overwhelming crowds. About an hour later, we were walking along a winding old road in the French countryside. The fresh breeze had just picked up, making the tall grass and colourful flowers (aligning the road) that aligned the road, move as if waving to some invisible viewer. There were many potholes scattered along the deserted road, filled with medium sized muddy brown puddles that were begging for a child to splash in them. (The darkening sky overpowered the sunny weather, as little streams of light peeked out and reflected on the ground and country side houses). The darkened sky overpowered the sunny weather, as little streams of light peeked out and reflected on the ground and country side houses. Falling maple leafs began to dance around in the wind, creating beautiful harmony. In the distance I could see a decapitated house, as I approached the unkempt house it seemed to me that (it looked...
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