Ivory Koehn 9/10/2010 Descriptive Essay Under The Raised Hand Prologue When I was a young girl learning about life and love‚ I always thought that some man would sweep me off my feet and it was my fate to be with him and only him. My mother was not a big fan of love and fate. She didn’t have a very good history of guys and relationships. She would always tell us love was not a reality and we should find someone with a lot of money. My mother is a strong feminist woman and I tried as hard
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a lot to look forward to by the standards of a young elementary school boy. I followed my older cousins where ever they went through the neighborhood‚ usually the park. Around the corner from the street I lived on was Camden Park where my cousins and I spent hours during the summer and after school. Up the street from this park was a stand called New England Frozen Lemonade. Making the trip around the block to this lemonade stand was among some of the highlights of my life. Like many other
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she wants to join the summer games. Stacy knows she will need sponsors to get new gear‚ such as a new skateboard and a helmet. She has many hazardous tricks and has to be careful not to get injured before the tournament. She practices in the park to get prepared. It’s very bumpy and has mostly grass which is a great obstacle to help her train. Though the sun is beaming on her back and she is out breathe Stacy stops and reflects on how far she has come. While hearing the wind blow and seeing
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hours of shut eye and I would be good‚ but it’s that time and I sit up. Eyes still shut sitting in my bed‚ I think about seeing my family and I get a burst of energy. It’s been two long years since the last time I’ve seen them. I’m going home! I walk across my room in the darkness of dawn and flick on the light. Smelling the dewy‚ clean‚ fresh air breeze by through the half open bedroom window‚ I hear the crickets squeaking and the birds talking. At least somebody else is up beside me on this Saturday
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College Writing 2 October 2012 Descriptive Essay A compact two-door car might not mean a lot to someone‚ but to me‚ working and improving my car is my favorite thing to do. When I am not inside my house or hanging out with my friends‚ you’ll be sure to find me working or cleaning my car. For most people‚ leaving their car stock is passable for their needs‚ but to me it’s not. My car is modified which makes it one of a kind. My car consists of its exterior‚ interior‚ and performance level
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SA II Test 1 | Close | | Subjective Test | | (i) All questions are compulsory. (ii) Questions 1 to 16 are multiple choice questions carrying one mark each. (iii) Questions 17 to 32 are short-answer type questions. These questions carry three marks each. (iv) Question number 33 to 36 are long-answer type questions and carry four marks each. Question 1 ( 1.0 marks) Who was the leader of the Bastar revolt of 1910? A. Sidhu B
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English 1301 Week 4 The Narrative Essay My First Flight The seasons are approaching in which families gather to celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas. This time of year does not carry the same feelings for me as they did when I was young. I am a military spouse and my husband has been away for most of our holidays. One peculiar Christmas I received the opportunity to spend the holiday with him this was my first flight experience. The morning of my flight‚ I got up at 2 o’clock‚ said a prayer
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intermittently around the plants as if to bring a little color to the dryness of the landscape. I pause as a butterfly with large yellow and blue wings flutters from flower to flower‚ collecting pollen that the colorful flowers so graciously provide. As I walk further into the field‚ I find myself under a canopy of trees. The large trunks twist and turn‚ their thick roots planted firmly into the ground as if playing a never-ending game of Twister. Branches resembling fingers aged by years of arthritis
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but my mind soon focuses in. Automatically my feet walk the known path from my last class of the day to the stairs. Cold and cruel this morning‚ they are no longer a mountain to climb up‚ but an easy descension; I know my destination now‚ and the peace that awaits me there. Eagerly I take the first step downward‚ but I have forgotten my stiff knees moan in protest‚ resisting the orders I give them to bend. Instead‚ I make an awkward penguin-like walk down the stairs. My aching limbs try to tell me to
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Composition 2 Descriptive Although worn out and beaten thin‚ my favorite t-shirt reigns supreme. Its rugged exterior presents a shabby disposition. Many new t-shirts have found their way into the velvet lined drawers of my antique armoire. None stand in comparison against the weathered softness of my favorite t-shirt. Folds of cotton threads have been pulled and stretched from their original contour. Nevertheless‚ its flaws are cherished. Block letters that once read Nike are barely recognizable
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