There is this place just a few blocks away from my house where I like to go to get away. It’s called The Rock in Pawnee Rock. Early in the morning it can be so peaceful and quiet with beautiful wet dew still on the grass. As the sun comes up you see the colors surrounding the bright sky. Nothing more radiant as the sun on a bright morning. As I look around I can see every house in this small town, plus the long stretch of highway from great bend to larned. You see cars buzzing by on the highway and hear the hum of a nearby lawn being mowed with the smell of fresh cut grass in the air. The tall stone pillars remind me of the brave Indians that lost their lives in battle on these grounds. The jagged rocks around make me think of when I was a child and loved to climb onto the tallest rocks I could find, as I would stand at the top of the hill and felt like king of the world.
Too Busy To Stand Still
At the rock early in the morning the world seems so eerie and dark. The sun still shining but the lives of Indians passed still feel as if they are lingering in this hollow place. As I stand at the top of the hill you see the once lovely plaques dedicated to the Indians that lost their lives on these grounds, which is now riddled full of bullet holes. The walls and the tall pillars now covered in obscene spray paint, surely contaminated by the younger generation with nothing better to do. As you hear the loud cars busily driving by, you wonder if anyone ever stops to appreciate this old decrepit place. They seem as if they are just racing by without even a notice this place still exists. The nauseating smell of nearby cows and manure in the nearby field make you stop and wonder how anyone could stand the stench in this pit. The long stretch of road and the magnitude of everything around you makes you feel so small and insignificant.
In my essay I used a few direct statement of meanings where in my negative...
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