Traveling is one of my family’s favorite things to do. The family has visited numerous places throughout the United States, however, none are as memorable as Atlanta, Georgia. In Atlanta, there are many places to go and sights to see such as: Cola-cola factory, Cabbage Patch Kids Factory, Under Ground Mall, the Zoo, Atlanta Braves Stadium, Six Flags Over Georgia, Stone Mountain Park, and the Atlanta Aquarium, are all in or near the city of Atlanta. The three that we visit on every trip to Atlanta are Six Flags, Stone Mountain, and the Atlanta Aquarium.
On October 6th, 2016 at around 3 p.m. I rode the number 1 train from Van Courtlandt Park in the Bronx to South Ferry in lower Manhattan. The ride lasted about an hour. Like stated earlier, this should’ve been just another ride I had to take on the subway, but to my surprise it was a different experience. Without the disturbance of music and my phone, my senses were focused on everything in my surroundings and with that, the things I’ve observed on my ride were fascinating. This essay will focus on the observations I’ve made about the different riders
So much had changed in so little time. As of yesterday and today, we have been on a train with no food and water. I couldn’t think of anything possibly worse than this. Throughout the night, Madame Schafter, a quiet, kind mother, howled all night about a fire which only she could see, which scared me. If someone so calm and level headed was hallucinating, what was I? “‘Look! Look at this fire! This terrible fire!’” (Wiesel 25). What fire was she talking about? Was she talking about the h*ll we were enduring on the cattle car? I had heard rumors that there were crematories wherever we were going, if they were even true. Men in the cattle car tied her up and gagged her, and eventually beat her into silence (Wiesel 26). Although I pitied Madame Schafter, her screaming was driving me crazy, and I too felt the urge to slap her across the face, anything to silence the screaming. I guess that as of now, thinking straight is out of the question. Little did I know that thinking straight would be out of the question for a very long time.
As the trains stops in downtown Toronto I can see lots of people walking on and off other trains, tall buildings, lots of cars, and the people all look so happy it just makes you feel happy inside. Now we have to walk to go to the subway and take the subway to the gym where the games are played. The subway in Canada are much cleaner and nicer than the American subways. As we walked down the concert stairs you could hear the train coming a mile away. As you see lights coming from around the corner you know it is close. As the train slowed down again you saw a lot of other people on the train.We walk onto a much longer train. On the inside it is warm and carpeted. Not many chairs but plenty of standing room. We have to wait three stops before we got off. Everytime the train stopped you could feel yourself leaning forward then jerking back. Also as the train turned you could see the whole train looked like it was being bent. As you walk up the concert stairs then walk onto the street and the sun hits your skin after being underground you feel
We arrived at our destination… so I took my headphones out, and I put my iPhone away. I stepped off of the bus to see a large brick school building with some bricks missing and multiple cracked windows illuminated by light bulbs glowing brightly in classrooms full of innocent children. I began walking to the entrance of the school, trying to avoid the large cracks in the sidewalk that were filled with ice on this bitter December day. Snow was falling and the bitter cold and my new surroundings were shaking me to the core.
That feeling, the one someone has as they walk through a sketchy crowd or pass by a person who looks like they can potentially end a life. But sitting across one on a moving train for who knows how long, is another story. In the poem “On the Subway” by Sharon Olds, she narrates an experience a young woman on a moving train. She is able to convey the speaker’s dilemma by employing tone, imagery, and organization
If you can’t imagine it, think clumsy silence. Think bits and pieces of floating despair. And drowning in a train. Snow had been falling consistently, and the service to Munich was forced to stop due to faulty track work. There was a woman wailing.
The tone of the article contributed to its deep resonance with the readers. Von Drehle and Altman created a frame of chaos and distress by using words like “scrambled”, “struggled”, and “failed”, not only to describe the citizens witnessing the passing hours and days, but also the police and governments who stood by trying to come up with ways to clear the scorch (24). An air of
Feeling all those eyes stare at me, I knew that my next few actions were vital to my survival. My sleep deprived state may have been the only thing keeping me from storming out of the bus right then and there. It also dictated my next action. Out of energy and fatigued, I decided it would be best to lay my head back and take a nap. I took the most angry, worried, and defeated nap imaginable on that bus ride to the track meet. Waking up to the gust of freezing wind that filled the bus as the door opened, and seeing the gargantuan football stadium made me realize that I had, in fact, survived the awkward bus ride to the regional meet. As I exited the bus and grabbed my pole, I expected to receive even more awkward stares, but alas, none were given. I concluded, with pole in hand, that if everybody had not forgotten about the incident already, they would once the track meet started. My anger temporarily ceased as we set up our tent. Once the tent was set up and I had put my pole in a safe position, my free hand reached for my phone. As I pulled out my phone and gently placed my thumb on the home button, the screen lit up. “7:25,” the screen said, as if to mock my anxiousness as I drove to
People don’t often think about the stories of their fellow subway riders, especially not when they’re taking the last train of the night. Usually, people are focused on their destination and their own lives while riding the subway. However, Last Train asks the viewer to leave their own world and listen to the stories of people that are riding this particular last subway train of the night.
Every moment, the time yet passes while my hatred does not. Every day, I must struggle to keep the rage that threatens to explode from me bound in a dark corner of my soul. For every second, while the Reverend Parris, that fool, stands in front of my town, he corrupts their very thoughts, toying with Salem for his own pleasure.
To anyone from New York City, the dangers of train cars are evident. This is why, when the reader begins to see that the children are acting recklessly, he becomes quite worried. This is because there are countless numbers of warnings on trains,
The train station is a place where Liesel’s brother had died during his sleep. Two days later, Werner’s body was buried on the side of the rode. Traumatized, Liesel starts to vigorously dig at the grave but is then pulled away by her mother. Before they were about to get on the bus, Liesel had spotted “The Gravedigger's Handbook” laying in the snow, which would always remind her of her brother. Since Liesel was on her way to meet her foster parents, she would be alone since she would not have her brother with her. When they had arrived at their stop, Liesel realized she would never see her Mother again and had to say her last goodbye. Her life would never be the same, at that time she knew her life would never be the same and would be handed over to Hans and Rosa Hubermann. The train station is a place of death, sadness, and loneliness, which is a place that I would not want to visit. On page 6 - 7 it states, “ Next to the train line, footprints were sunken to their shins. Trees wore blankets of ice. As you may expect, someone had died.” This line from the text identifies that the death of Liesel’s brother had impacted the way she would live with her foster parents. This supports my reasoning that the train station is an ideal setting since it is where Liesel’s worst memories occurred and it also leads to where her true identity of the “Book Thief” transpires. Since Liesel was to live with the
It was a dark and cloudy afternoon when Dr. Everett Rameses stepped from the passenger car of a long distance locomotive. He sighed, adjusting his disheveled traveling suit. It had been about a day and a half of transit, and his legs were shaky as they made contact with the rickety boards below him. One of his feet had even managed to fall asleep, and he shook it annoyedly as he stepped away from the train. He was the only passenger for this stop, not an especially shocking revelation since the other passengers had stepped off to their respective destinations a long time ago. Everett scanned his new surroundings. A static summer breeze blew dryly across the abandoned station The swirling, black clouds above him threatened a thunderstorm. The sun was lost in the rain-heavy clouds like a ship lost in a monsoon at sea. It looked almost night, although his watch read about two in the afternoon. Just beyond the station he was standing in was a small, tired looking main street that he had been told was typical of this part of Mississippi. He could practically see the fireflies and mosquitos that the nearby river surely attracted dancing in the streets. The station itself, while it must have originally been an impressive structure, was in dire need of some renovation. Each step that Everett took was accompanied by a high-pitched shriek. He winced. Vicksburg was surely a long way from New York City... The entire place felt so uncomfortable to him, so stagnated. Though he reasoned
The story then shifts to the station which was between two lines of rails” this represented the two opposite directions in which they could have traveled, and the choice that lay in each direction, Madrid being the place of abortion, and the continuity of the ‘empty’ life they were used to together, or toward Barcelona, a new start, a new beginning, with a new life. So railroad station represented a crossroads or junction at which they had to cross.