Descriptive Essay About The Sky

The shore near, the scent of home far, but I clung on. The rough bark of the log chafed against my bare chest, and my hands were weary from holding on. I inhaled, praying that my body can push toward the sand, and I felt my strength bitterly rise for a last stand. I heaved my futile body on the dry sea of sand and quietly allowed the light to dance one last time in the sunset of my existence.

The tide was coming in and there was only a narrow strip of firm beach between the water and the white, stumbling stuff near the palm terrace. Ralph chose the firm strip as a path because he needed to think, and only here could he allow his feet to move without having to watch them. Suddenly, pacing by the water, he was overcome with astonishment. He found himself understanding the wearisomeness of this life, where every path was an improvisation and a considerable part of one 's waking life was spent watching one 's feet. He stopped, facing the strip; and remembering that first enthusiastic exploration as though it were part of a brighter childhood, he smiled jeeringly. He turned then and walked back toward the platform with the sun in his face. The time had come for the assembly and as he walked into the concealing splendors of the sunlight he went carefully over the points of his speech. There must be no mistake about this assembly, no chasing imaginary. . . .

•The sight of the Atlantic ocean captivates the attention of the boys and, for a little while, allows them to forget their in the middle of a war. The shore is strange to them so they take the time to explore and enjoy it.

1) How would you convey the message of the book “Half the Sky” to family, friends, and colleagues?

The rugged sea of the lawn illuminated the brisk zephyrs dancing. I saw each individual blade of grass flickering in the summer breezes. It was simple to watch specific pieces of grass because each one boasted a unique tint of green, a quintillion shades of green. The sky was as marvelous as ever. Colors that I could never begin to imagine were spattered, splashed, and speckled on the sky as if God himself held the palate in front of the empyrean canvas. It appeared as if the luminous sunset was a minuscule example of what heaven looked like. A mellifluous range of sounds could be heard. Cicadas buzzed, birds sang, and dogs barked.

As the wind brushed the back of my dress, I turned around to overlook the waves of golden ocean, pouring into the small town I called home. But, my eyes became fixed on the sun. It was so wonderful, so beautiful as it rose out of its slumber in the mountains. I always felt the sun’s warmth on my cloudy white dress, and I loved how it always felt like my father’s hugs.

In the books, the young protagonist relishes the feeling of warm, damp sand seeping between her toes and breathes in the thick scent of salty ocean air as she traipses along the Atlantic coast. The sweet sound of laughing children and crashing waves fills her ears, and the cool metal of her sunglasses soothes her skin against the harsh summer heat.

The sunlight tinting the clouds with pink and golden hues reminding me of a Maxwell Parish painting I had once owned. There was a heavy fog and mist coming in off the Pacific Ocean into the San Francisco Bay I noticed that the fog clung to the bottom of the Golden Gate Bridge. Sounds of gulls screeching and fog horns moaning, issuing warning of possible danger are coming in off the bay overwhelmed my senses. I did not take the time to breath in this wondrous moment as I should have. It is only now though this reflection that I appreciate the beauty. I had a goal, a destination. I was a force of nature not to be deterred. So onward north I traveled passing monumental sites with a lackadaisical attitude. Not understanding that I needed to breath in, slowdown and enjoy the singular experience of the once in lifetime moments that were flying past me as I raced down the

Ahead the sky is starkly grey, cut by cold blue splotches where the clouds have separated. The brightness strains the eye despite the muted shades, and the rare slices of sun bring relief as the warmth offsets

The ocean and beach are beautiful while the tide rises and falls, and “The little waves, with their soft, white hands” (Longfellow) wipe away the footsteps from the traveler. The scene itself is grand, however, what the ocean represents could be viewed as oblique. The ocean, and its waves, are a symbol for the never-ending cycle of nature, life, and time. The waves, “[effacing] the footprints in the sands” (Longfellow), illustrates how life always continues and how little an individual influences nature as a whole. Despite the ending of the traveler’s life and his little influence on the world during his journey, Longfellow demonstrates the peacefulness and constructiveness of nature.

The sweltering balmy breeze embraced my rosy crimson cheeks until the warmth caressingly diffused through my salubrious skin. As I looked above, the never-ending sky filled the world with is disseminating tranquillity. Finally! I was at peace. It was an incessant blanket of cerulean indigo, which accommodated floating swirls of frothy wool like clouds. They debouched across the cadaverous sky; like a blanket of comfort they assured its inheritance.

The navy blue water was almost black and a smooth stone stretching toward the horizon. The horizon was barely visible, but the fading sunset was still barely visible. The moon was full and bright. Stars filled the sky and the water like holes in a black blanket. My feet were bare, but my body was covered with a short black dress that barely covering my upper thigh. The sand was soft and cool. It felt refreshing. I had no reason to move because I was content with the view I had. I stood where I was and looked out at the bright moon and the stone and the sky.

The doorbell rang. sky dragged her feet to the door, thinking it was her takeout when she opened the door all that was there was a small box and an envelope addressed to her. She grabbed the things and went off to her room. she began to open the letter, she noticed that there was no key for the box just a note and a piece of gum. Sky when on and tried to pry the box open but all she could see through the cracks were bright blue lights. Sky went off and grabbed the small note and began to read it, Dear, sky We are the no faces, we chose you out of millions of people, if someone is chosen from us it's a great one if you would like to see us please chew the gum

The cobalt sky was patchy with cirrus clouds that looked as though they’d been painted on with a dry roller. Standing on the soft shoulder with an outstretched thumb and a trust-me-I’m-friendly smile, I felt my exposed skin flushing Popsicle pink beneath the Mexican sun (which is also the Canadian sun, the Namibian sun and even the Venusian sun). When the Ford F-series pickup trundled to a stop, Matt and I swung first our backpacks, then ourselves, into the truck bed and tapped the side of the vehicle. “Vamos!”

Gazing out of my bedroom window one night, I witnessed a breathtaking view of the yard. As if you are transferred into a fairy tale. The sky seemed like a piece of beautiful painting. The whole ambiance of the space was captivating. The fluffy clouds were dancing around the moon making the light falling on the ground to glimmer dramatically. By the passing time the cloud shift shapes into something new and exciting each time. The stone pathway led one to the exquisite marble fountain. The soft moonlight hitting the marble make it shine as white as pearls. The moonlight made everything, the flowers the tree leaves and bushes all glittered like jewels. A light breeze was making the branches dance to their own rhythm. The cool wind carrying the smell of the flowers was a reminder of a spring day. The chirping of night life added more life to the whole scenario. The soothing environment of the yard portrayed the idea of how the heaven must look like.