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Descriptive Essay About The Lake

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For there lay the lake. Not a lake, the lake, the lake that had been featured in every single one of her father’s tales, be they stories of ancestors or stories of his recent days; the lake that had provided a countless number of shops around the world with authentic Icelandic arctic char, the lake that had started and upheld and would continue to uphold the Heath family legacy for every conceivable generation to come. Ice covered every inch of it. If the snow had been masters at reflecting the glorious rays of sunlight, the ice sheets were gods. Fjola could hardly tell where the atmosphere stopped and the frozen lake began - everything she could see for yards and yards was mirrored perfectly by the ice. The whites and blues and yellows and faint dotted greens ran into one another until they were one, one unit, one item, one color; the color of amazement. The landscape was hard and sharp and crisp beneath a world coated by a facade of softness and kindness and love. But most of all was its sheer emptiness. Fjola was not about to let such a magnificent scene escape her grasp. She was up and scrambling out of the car far before her father had even parked the car, gathering her supplies and flinging herself from its interior out into the cold, breezy environment that lay in wait for her small presence. By the time her dad had collected his things and made his way along the lake, she had already dashed out onto the ice. Caution had been thrown to the wind. She didn’t

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