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Descriptive Essay About A Museum

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Mountains. Tall, mounded structures that clouds rest on. Like layered cake, a large row of trees carpeting the gigantic base floods the ground like a cool, green sea. A gray middle towers up, carving rocky outcrops. And finally, the snow capped point, like icing, that beribbons the top. Imagining them is one thing, but climbing them only takes one priority, perseverance.
“Katie, would you like to go to a museum?” Dad asked. Everyone who knew him would know that he loves museums. And I’m fine with them as long as it’s not like the common history museums. He raised his hand and pointed. When I followed his finger, I saw a building, resting on the side of a mountain.
“What could be in there?” I asked myself. Even though it looked a little unstable, it could be an amazing place. “Yes!” I squealed. ***
As we walked toward the museum, I spotted tiny, yellow bees, like cotton balls floating in the air, landing in flowers, landing in the trees.
All of the sudden, my little brother, Kyle screamed, “Bee! Bee!” as some landed on him.
Then I stepped closer to the entryway toward the museum to see the tall ceiling. “What could be in a building so high?” A wooden archway with very intricate patterns carved into it, glowed a sandy-brown color, as it curved upward and pointed to the sky, as if I were in the inside of a small mountain. It seemed to be welcoming everyone in as flowers hung down from it like curtains.
As the rest of our family caught up with me, we all walked

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