Descriptive Essay

this water to survive, and our loved ones at home worried sick wondering if we are even still alive. Then again the view a had while doing this wasn’t all that bad. Most likely a better view than what I would have originally had at the resort we were heading to.

Awaking from my daze to peer out the large, sweeping windows of the tour bus. Speeding past me is the Normandy countryside located on France's northern coast. After driving for an hour, we appear to be slowing down. The tour guide, Gilles, speaks over the intercom in his accented English describing the medieval structures of the town we are approaching. From a distance it appears to be a tourist haunt. Honfleur is a beautiful town that is different from anywhere else in the world.

I looked out onto what was left of the landscape before me one last time. I used to call this place home but it no longer resembles the one I used to know. “It’s funny how things can go from bad to worse in such a short amount of time” I thought to myself. What once used to be a beautiful blue sky full of puffy clouds shaped like anything that could be imagined was now grey and lifeless. The clouds are no longer white and puffy but dark and menacing. They are racing towards us with the impending storm. The buildings we are leaving behind are still tall and immaculate compared to the brown wasteland around them. There was no longer green in sight except for the vehicles and billboards.

This painting portrays Kahlo's two different personalities: traditional and modern Kahlo. The two are holding hands and are both sitting next to one another. The traditional

I held her frail body, caressing her to my chest as she nuzzled her head into the crook of my arm. It only took one look into her glistening eyes and I instantly fell in love. She was shockingly beautiful, with glossy dark brown fur, beige streaks, and chocolate-swirl puppy eyes that would melt your heart. I decided to name her Bella, after my favorite Italian cuisine restaurant downtown. I carried her into the car, to bring her to her new home. Bella shivered as the brisk breeze brushed past her coat. My stepfather was waiting for us by the front door, and as I came to the steps carrying her, he gave a weak smile. Out of all 5 family members, he was the only one who wasn’t too fond of getting a dog.

A cool breeze blew across my face as I lie on the the white leather seats of my family's new boat. The water sloshes around rocking me back and forth ever so gently. I turn my head away from the gleaming sun straight above as it starts to sting my eyes. My furry black labrador retriever comes up and puts her nose right next to my face so I can feel her breath. I reach out and touch her velvety ears as she begins to lay down hoping for a belly rub. I hear my sisters laugh as her and her friend jump into the deep blue lake making drops of water spray up which lightly land on my skin. I sit up and rest my chin on the top of the seat and peer down into the water watching them swim about.

Stone, stone, stone, wood. Stone, stone, wood, stone. Stone, wood, wood, brick. I count things when I’m bored. So far I’ve passed twenty-one wood, thirty-four stone, and sixteen brick buildings since entering the city. It only took a damp half days ride to the capitol but it seemed farther away than ever before. Home. The sounds of playing in the garden. The smells floating from the kitchen. Father telling stories by the fireplace while mother smiles at each passing exaggeration. That was a great summer day. It would be the last one for quite some time, perhaps forever. No more beautiful greenery. No more delicious scents. No more wild tales. Not for me at least. Hopefully, my siblings can still have days filled with loving family.

Sitting on the soft sand, I look out over the ocean. The deep indigo blue waters roll onto the beach in sets of white top waves, making a soothing sound as they crash against the shore. I sit there, listening to the the sounds of the ocean, the slight breeze brushes my skin and the salty air fill my lungs. I feel a sense of calmness, a feeling I haven’t felt in years.

The sound of car horns honking, trains whistling, and the sudden halt of our car in reaching traffic caused me to wake abruptly. “Welcome to the Bronx” read the overhead sign; a jolt of excitement ran through my body as we were approaching the Stadium. I then realized that I was going to witness the iconic Derek Jeter complete his final season. Childhood memories were reappearing as the loud mouthed New Yorkers Hollered and polluted fumes were settling. Bronx, New York is truly a place one needs to visit. After paying for an overpriced parking spot, we began our five block hike to Yankee Stadium. The hectic sidewalks were as gum filled as my high school desks along with promoters harassing pedestrians. It seemed as though no one got along outside of Yankee Stadium, aggressive expressions overtook the streets. Whether is was the ticket sharks, homeless looking for change, or cars looking to switch lanes, the chaos was all around.

Hour nineteen was halfway conquered. I could barely take it anymore as I glanced around the car for the thousandth time, it was still the same thing. Several guys crashed out in the back row of seats, the same grey interior with a touchscreen navigator on the dashboard that was set on the directions that read: DESTINATION: ONTARIO, CANADA in the glowing white LED lighting. The distance between the passenger seat and my legs seemed to get closer with every hour that passed by. My legs paid the price; when we got out of the car to refuel on gas, I stumbled out of the solid red Nissan as if I haven’t been able to walk for years. After the quick break, it was back into the car. All 6 of the Anderson men were piled in for the long voyage for our annual fishing trip in Ontario, Canada. The car was polluted with the smell of old fast food, greasy old clothes, and body odor.

It was the middle of another busy late-autumn noon in the industrious, bustling Saffron City. Amid the tall skyscrapers, the sounds of thousands of people, Pokémon, and cars flooded the streets and sidewalks — the daily norm for the hectic city. Citizens were out enjoying the cool air and pleasant weather. Children played in the parks, tourists walked about to take in the sights. Planes and blimps carrying various advertisements hovered in the blue sky above. Buses and taxis made their usual rounds, limousines chauffeured important persons. Businesspeople chatted away on their cell phones. Even with all the hubbub, wily Pokémon Trainers could still get a battle in with one another, in alleyways, side streets, or even the busy sidewalks. The city was like a well-oiled machine moving in constant harmony.

She is small and sharp and angular. Her elbows hurt when they're pressed tightly against you and her small fingers dig into your sides. She rests her chin on your shoulder and it sinks into you. Her fingers are flat- but you always remember them flatter than they are. In your mind, they are a 2D part of her. Her hair looks as if someone set it aflame. It reminds you of October, of the orange, crisp leaves. While you are in no way overweight, you are definitely softer than her. Her hands are delicate, you’re always afraid you’ll crush them, so you hold her hand loosely. You can’t decide what color her eyes are. At first, they seem blue, but the next time you see her you could swear they’re green, and occasionally they look a stormy grey.

It was our second day in Montana, and I was so excited to be going on a beautiful hike with my family. The roundtrip was about five miles there and back, and it is one of the most highly rated and enjoyed hikes in Northern Montana. We figured there would be lots of other travelers, and the first part was crowded with people. But as intensity increased, the number of people decreased. We trekked up the steep incline on the first mountain, to the point where we were able to see into the valley far below us and the sky on the other side. In an instant, the warm and sunny Montana day turned windy and cool.

There is one place that overrules all the others. Only three hours away in Elk County lies my relaxing escape quarter. When I step foot into the old fashioned cabin, all of my troubles go away. I love that it resembles a completely different world. The whirling of the wind, the brightness of the stars, and the fragrance of the fresh air are just a few of my favorite things about spending time at my favorite place. The atmosphere of Elk County contains an incredibly tranquilizing sense. A lonely cabin placed in the middle of nowhere with no cell phone service and rarely any other people. However, if there are other people, we all share the same goal, to relax. The camp itself occupies the top of a popular mountain in Elk County called Winslow Hill. This hill belongs to a portion of the county that houses hundreds of camps, visitors, and the Elk County Visitor Center. This is an easily accessible area where elk can conveniently be seen. The cares of the world come off my shoulders when I step into Elk County.

Jamaica. A country roaring with culture and beauty, just as I had imagined. Water as clear as glass and a jungle that touched the sky. Locals singing and dancing everywhere I looked. In awe of my surroundings I stood, not knowing that the next turn I’d make would shatter the perfect image I’d built, and change my perspective completely.