As I placed my heavy backpack on the old bench, I feel tiredness coming up to me, as well as the sadness, because I have to spend in the park for an hour just to write some descriptive essay. So I grabbed my pencil and notebook and started to look around, the park was lonely. The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. There was me, sitting on the bench, writing this essay. It was a quiet Tuesday late afternoon and not many people appears, I sat there alone on the ancient bench, the cold wind blew at me, and down to my spine. As I looked up In the sky, it is transformed into a colorful horizon; filled with endless streams of orange and red.…