Descriptive Essay : Walking Tour

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.

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.

The Fairfax District in Los Angeles is a neighborhood with a rich history and mixed culture of old and new. It is deeply rooted in Judaica culture, as apparent along the streets lined with Jewish delis, bakeries, grocery stores, and synagogues. Though in recent decades Fairfax has become an urban playground for younger generations, it still carries the essence of traditional Jewish lifestyle. Here is where decades-old Israeli restaurants sit next to streetwear shops and thrift shops, and “where Orthodox men share the sidewalk with skateboarders” (Nedivi, 2013).

The icy air whistles throughout the town, causing the windows to rattle and the shutters to bang loudly. The town is dark and silent for the sun has yet to rise, but it's a lovely sight with the white snow laying untouched. The houses become works of art, with their beautiful undisturbed snowy roofs. Snug inside a small inn many a pale beauty gazes out over the freshly fallen snow with her unusual purple eyes never leaving the light of the roaring fire from the town-square. Shadows of the flames dance against the freshly fallen snow, and a soul figure tends to the fire. For a second she stands there watching the fire before turning around to face her small bedroom where she glides across the room towards the small narrow wooden door. Pausing with her pale hand hovering just a few inches from the knob, she glances over her shoulder at the frosty snow covered window before giving the knob a slight turn. Slipping into the dark drafty hallway, the pale beauty tugs her white hood up over her snow white hair before stepping onto the creaky spiral wooden staircase. Below she could hear the faint whispers of the innkeeper on how winter has come, but she pays it no mind as she descends the staircase to the room below. The room below is warm just like her small room above, and the warm glow from the fireplace is the only source of light in the room. Slipping into an empty chair, she flagged down the innkeeper with her pale hand, and ordered herself a bit of food.

We have been waiting nine long months, and we have had much preparation to do before the arrival of our daughter. Of all the things we have prepared for her, I am most proud of her room, my mother and I painted it and sat it up with all the accessories together. I sat on the floor and taped off the stripes to be painted, and my mom painted. It was a great team effort, and we are so happy how it turned out. With flowers and butterflies on her wall, busy pattern of stripes and beautiful colors, she is going to love her bedroom. Our crib and furniture is finally set up and put in her room. With pink and green letters above her crib spelling out the name of our precious baby

The world whizzed past me in the comfort of the car, the cold blanket of air unable to reach my pale skin through closed windows and blasting heaters. The radio was quiet, the music providing ambience on top of the rumbling of the car’s engine. The last beat of the current song ended, filling the car with silence. After a few heartbeats, on came the next song, and I turned my head to look at the radio, hand outstretching to turn the dial up. As the strong, pulsing notes of the electric guitar filled my car, a smile came on to my face. It pulled me back, all those years ago, to a night I was ready to party and had hoped it would never end.

It felt nice, the fresh breeze of air as I jogged down a desolate park during the night time. It wasn’t a good day, so it felt nice to have the moon in full view over me as I vented my frustrations in each step I took. Suddenly, I heard crying. I took an earbud out, no longer hearing Taylor Swift, and the crying was louder than ever. Bewildered, I looked around for a moment as I suddenly noticed a few feet away on a bench, a girl was crying. I squinted for a bit, trying to see her clearly in the darkness. Immediately, I noticed she was young. I saw she was rather skinny, somewhat tall thought that could be deceiving as she was sitting down, and was wearing a crop top that showed off her belly and displayed a low V-neck with shorts that clearly showed off her features. She had on stockings, and I could see her shoes were next to her, 3 inch heels that looked clearly painful as she was massaging her feet for the moment on the bench, tears streaming down her face as she was looking down. I approached for a moment, “Hey.”. She jumped, startled by the apparent hello, and looked up to find me approaching her, as I quickly held up my hands, to show I meant no harm. There was an awkward silence for a moment, as we stared at each other for a moment, as I’d calmly take one step after another towards the bench, my mind racing and my heart aching as I felt I needed to confirm my worst thoughts. I was finally able to sit next to her, I didn’t look at her yet though, as she was still

As the glossy doors of the stifling elevator closed shut, I squeezed a large, glowing button that held an image of an upwards arrow. Listening to the humdrum jazz music on my way to the thirteenth floor, my long forehead began to produce droplets of sweat and tears, for the walls of the elevator were closing in on me. In order to calm my fretful senses, I began fiddling with the silver buckles on my briefcase, until a deafening crash entered my ears. The booming sound filled the room once more, this time causing my body to hit the hard ground. Suddenly, the motion of the elevator came to a halt, generating a fuse of the ceiling lights. Across from the silver doors, I noticed three mysterious beings, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. A man with big, dark eyes and an oversized trench coat stared into my very soul, as he resembled a vampire. An elderly woman, wearing a hat and scarf, cackled like a menace each time the elevator clashed. In the left corner, sat another man, with a bloody shirt and a wicked temper. My heart, beating faster than a set of drums, started to ache as I looked around at my inmates. Brooding and staring, each looked at me as if I were a savage animal. Trying to start a friendly conversation, my mouth uttered, “How long do you think we will be in here?” No response. The elevator was so quiet that a dropping pin could be heard.

Jack was sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor of his tree house. He shivered in the evening air, slouching inside his hoodie, his eyes glued to the pages of his graphic novel. At eleven years old, he was a voracious reader and completely unaware that the sun had set. He had been using his flashlight for over an hour, propped under his chin so his hands could hold the book open. His collie puppy, Lex, had been patient but was starting to think about his fluffy bed and treats in the house. He pushed his head between the book and Jack, using his saddest face and even whimpering a little.

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.

Growing up everyone had their favorites. They had their favorite food, favorite activity, favorite show, favorite people, and even a favorite place to go. Things were so much simpler as a kid because you did not have to worry about things since almost all decisions were made for you. Looking back at my childhood most memories I thought I had, have disappeared never to be seen again. Although most memories have vanished I still have a few that I will always remember and one of those was a yearly trip to a swimming pool called Springdale which was about an hour from my house.

Before me was a breathtaking sight. The pictures I had seen prior to my vacation did not even begin to do this natural wonder justice. Water underneath the fall was a beautiful green color. The water cascading over the cliffs and crashing into the ground below was a sight to behold. Because it was dark, the waterfalls were changing, cycling through a multitude of colors. Months of anticipation had finally come to fruition. After hours of driving, my mom and I were reaping the rewards.

The school was indeed an escape, and I had thanked god privately for Brendon Larson. I remember his personality vividly; his light humor and big glasses curved my lips for nearly the whole class. Especially anatomy and pathology, who knew the dull human body, could be so funny. He was generous with his happiness and sprayed a thin layer of hope on all of us from the front of the room. I used his humor as an anesthetic from the spiritual growing pains I was encountering.

Heavy traffic, blaring sirens, and stress linger in the atmosphere of my hometown Houston. Before coming to Albion, Houston was all I knew about the city. The word city, can be defined as an abundance of things yet, as “Love Where You Live” stated in, “great cities you sense a spirit of generosity visible in small gestures and the large, and it is these that can make ordinary places extraordinary even if they are down heel”(16), yet my hometown seemed to fit the description in a peculiar manner. I lived in Houston for the majority of my life, but I cannot say that I sense a link between it and myself. Setting foot into Albion is the complete opposite. Albion drew me in with its peaceful vibes and welcoming faces. Every time I step outside I am in awe of the greenery surrounding me; whenever I take a walk and run into a stream I am baffled at the fact that the water is so clear that I can see the bottom, that I can hear the chirrup of crickets in the grass.

The alarm goes off at six in the morning. With the whole world still asleep, I get up and put on my basketball gear. My eyes hardly open and my muscles refuse to get out of the warmly made bed. My dad comes down with a rather keen smile plastered all over his face. He asks if I’m ready to go. I reply with a simple nod of my head. The feeling of the cold water from the sink suspends the feeling of collapsing muscles. But the day is long from over.