I had fallen asleep several hours earlier in the soft, worn, red seat in the corner of an empty train car. The rhythmic sound of the train track combined with a repetitive falling rain had abated me into a much-needed slumber, after spending much of the day navigating the chaotic and often unfriendly streets of Paris. I had collapsed in the seat as soon as I boarded, thrilled to have some isolation and contented to be leaving the chaos of the big city. I was roused from my rest by the shrill sound of a train whistle, and a sudden lurch which announced that we were coming to a stop. I dug a dog-eared copy of my trusty map out of my right jeans pocket and saw that I had arrived at my stop. I glanced out the window to my left and the flashing neon yellow confirmed that we were at the train station in Interlachen, Switzerland. I hauled my lumbering belongings onto my back just as the train doors opened. The smell of diesel fuel hit my face as I stepped carefully down the stairs, still slightly travel-weary and disoriented. The train station itself looked like most of the dozens of train stations I had been in. Bustling crowds, loudspeaker announcements overhead, the constant ticking of electronic schedules flashing on each wall. I swiveled around in each direction until I spotted the exit sign to my right proclaiming “Welcome to Switzerland.” Hiking my backpack higher up on my back, I put my head down and headed determinedly towards the exit. When I had boarded the train in
Introduction The intense scent of fear lingered in the air. The sharp edges of the terror that hung over Paris were always watching, always warning. The gray sky hovered over the crowd gathered around the towering fear as a green carriage entered the yellowed meadow, and stopped in a large, empty space surrounded by canons. After a few moments, several men stepped out of the coach.
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
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
Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States is a distinct alternative to most mainstream history textbooks. Zinn’s perspective of different complicated historical issues is exemplified through his unique writing and helps the reader understand different convoluted events. The point of view that Zinn chooses allows him to express hardships and struggles through the perspective of America's victims, slaves, African-Americans, Native Americans, the working poor, and the immigrant laborers. By speaking for the voiceless, Zinn is able to provide readers ample detail while looking at sensitive times in American history. Zinn starts with Columbus and progressively moves into recent history; he extensively illustrates the hidden class struggles and the fight to replace a broken political system, but still remains insightful and takes a holistic approach while evaluating American History.
“One, Two, THREE!” Lennie and I sprint toward the bus. I don’t think I have ever seen Lennie run so fast. Just as I think we have made it to safety, a gunshot goes off. Right in front of the old bus, I fall to my knees as my vision becomes blurry. Even through all of the noise and commotion, all I can hear is my ears ringing. Most people would be scared or angry that they are dying, but I was happy because Lennie was safe. Surprisingly, the bus driver took Lennie and drove off. The bus before had just seemed like a bus, but now it was like a chariot, because it carried the only thing important to me in it. As the sight of the bus became vague, my eyes slowly shut and my smile slowly
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,
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.
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
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.
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
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
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.
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.
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
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.