I Believe In The Window Analysis

The mountains are a beautiful adventure. As you walk up the incline, trees overhang, animals run wild, and rivers roar. All of these are things that keep me coming back to hike. On my most recent hike, while it may have been 100 degrees back home, where I was it was a chilling 40 degrees. As we walked around ten miles up and over the mountain, I took many breaks to catch my breath and take in the majestic scenery. There are also the snow skiing vacations. While you can’t see anything besides snow and trees, the adventure of cruising down the slopes is full of adrenalin. The mountains have always signified an adventure for me. Just like the mountains, life is a beautiful adventure. I do not know yet what adventures are in store for my life, but I look forward to them. I strive to see the beauty in everything.

The windows show the outside world, showing you what lies beyond the four walls which you are stuck between. Many cases throughout the book result in a woman’s character being trapped and not being able to leave the house they are in. The women then result in looking out the windows only to dream about leaving. “She looked out the window her whole life, the way so many women sit their sadness on an elbow” (11). The main character’s grandmother was trapped in her own house, her husband had stripped her of her freedom and was enable to leave. Windows are tricky, they are sweet like honey showing you the outside world, but in the book the character, then realizes they cannot venture past them so they

To begin with, the windows are beneficial because they can help understand the world more profoundly in a scientific way. Goodall’s view is renewed when she sees the world through the new windows she discovered in the forest. The scientific window allows her to “see ever farther, ever more clearly, into areas which until recently were beyond human knowledge” (Goodall 148). This implies the new sight that the windows have opened for herself as well as her study. Her thoughts and knowledge are refreshed by the scientific window that the forest unfolds to her. The window broadens her horizon by presenting a world of larger scale with more innovative ideas and discoveries. She considers that window not only in favor of her years of study in chimpanzees, but also “help people understand a little

The wind chime hung from the roof of the abandoned house , it swayed calmly and slowly against the wind , everything seemed peaceful . We - my father and I - sat on the porch of the rundown house that only we knew about . It was dark and I wasn’t the biggest fan of the night , the night is unpredictable but yet so beautiful .

I look up from my phone after the clock turns from 11:59 pm to 12:00 am and gaze upon Honey Pot Lake as it mirrors the pink and gold clouds illuminated by the setting sun’s rays as they bend over earth's curvature. I take in the beauty of the sunset and await the soon to come sunrise. As i, for the last time, experience the beauty of the pristine nature that bethel alaska has to offer, turn my head towards my adjacent friend and proclaim in a gloomy yet glad tone, “I never want to leave this place.” My experiences in bethel alaska from my two school immersion trips truly formed who I am today.

It had finally arrived. Moving day. I was finally leaving my home in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania after five short years and a sort of gloom lingered in the air. Although many teenagers would be excited to reunite with their family, friends, and childhood home, I, however, was frightened of the future. I woke up that morning and just laid there and listened to the sound of the rain pittering against the roof and windows, pattering against the surrounding forest in which I shared many memories. After what felt like centuries of just listening and reflecting, I got up and looked out the window. I looked at my neighbor's house across the field of grass which separated our houses and at the kids who had become like my siblings. I looked at the ice

I didn’t want to have to leave my friends in Nashville and be forced to make new ones in Atlanta. I didn’t want to get used to another new house or another city. I just wanted to stay in the only place I could call home. As the day of my departure approached, I thought of running away, so I wouldn’t have to move and my dad could keep his job in Atlanta. Thankfully, I never went through with it. When the day finally arrived, I was everything but ready. My mom had picked my brother up from school early to help move boxes out of the house and into our car while the movers haled broken down beds, and other pieces of furniture into their industrial moving trucks. Once everything was packed into trucks, paper work was finished and dogs were loaded in the car, we began the long 4-hour trip to Atlanta as dusk made its way to the sky. The trip itself was a calm one, we managed to avoid any major accidents on the highway, and we were traveling around 8 o’clock so the traffic had died down. As we drove I couldn’t help but think back to the friends I left and what was to come

As the wind brushed the back of my dress, I turned around to overlook the waves of golden ocean, pouring into the small town I called home. But, my eyes became fixed on the sun. It was so wonderful, so beautiful as it rose out of its slumber in the mountains. I always felt the sun’s warmth on my cloudy white dress, and I loved how it always felt like my father’s hugs.

Tranquil gusts kissed my skin; the sweet sensation of a breeze and the rustle of the trees’ leaves sung me a lullaby. As I lie, back to my trampoline and limbs sprawled, my mind would undergo a sort of cleansing, ridding me of my troubles. My home held my childhood; it possessed memories that had accumulated from day one, intertwining and condensing them to forge a place that would bear peace and serenity. I never contemplated departure, even when it was apparent my parents sought for a better place to reside, for no place could replace my home. Alas, my assumptions were proven to be erroneous.

Looking through the dusty back window of the 1998 Volkswagen we were in, I sat and watched the colony disappear from view as the dark night began to swallow it whole. I had wanted to leave for forever, but there was always a firm grasp which kept me there, my family. A single tear slips from my eye, rolls down my wind-burnt cheek, and clings tightly to my chin before its final descent into the open air. As a child, I too clung tightly to familiarity, but now, with my future at stake, it's time to flee, to leave behind everything, and embrace the rush of the unknown. I reach my hand across the center console and rest it on the back of Ethan’s soft hand. The warmth of his love momentarily fills the lull in my heart where my

Rain drops the size of Texas were falling, as I made my way out of my house. Why did it have to rain the day I decided to move? I had checked the whether forecast a few days in advance and the weather should have been a nice balmy 75 °F. But of course that was my luck. I had been planning this move for some time, and I thought everything would go smoothly (I was moving because I was going to attend Eastern Washington University). Instead the torrential rain was making me question whether I should reschedule my moving day. Putting all negative thoughts aside, I made up my mind to go ahead with the move. After all, I was only moving less than two hours away. Yes, I might be leaving the county I had lived in for the past 10 plus years, but it’s not like I was moving to Timbuktu. With a new positive outlook, I finished packing the rest of my few earthly possessions into my car. Everything seemed in place. I was ready to go.

It was a cool September evening and my mom was driving me from Los Angeles all the way to Johannesville. As we drove on quiet, deserted roads I stared out the passenger’s window and saw nothing but hills with tall, dry, golden-brown grasses. It certainly wasn’t anything like what you’d see in pictures of beautiful landscapes but it wasn’t too bad either, I actually kind of liked it. Looking at those golden hills rush past my window somehow relaxed me and sent me into a staring trance, my mind traveled to other-worldly places where I could let my imagination run wild.

Quiet and unassuming, a modest-looking house lies in the middle of a vast, empty plain, located away from the city and close to the pastoral natural world. Separated from the forceful influences of conformity, but still in touch with the surrounding world, this house is free to think, feel, and experience as it pleases. That’s because this house represents more than the entirety of its physical and visual features; it is a metaphor for my memories, ambitions, secrets, feelings, and emotions.

During the past two days I have driven through mountains, forests, past lakes, over rivers, creeks, and in cropped fields that fall into the big blue of Montana. During this essay I will talk about them.

One of the most used materials in human history is glass or more specifically silicate glass. Although some types of glasses are called crystal glass, glass is actually an amorphous solid and does not have a crystal structure. It is used in all walks of life ranging from homes to automobiles to laboratories. Historically, the one of the first types of glass that was used by humans to make tools and weapons was the volcanic glass known as obsidian. As for manmade glass, the earliest accounts date back to 5000 BC in the middle east. Primitive methods of glass making were used until about 100BC, when glassblowing was believed to be discovered. This discovery made glass products popular in the Roman Empire since the development of glassblowing allowed glass production to be more efficient and thus less expensive. As the centuries went on more techniques were developed which eventually lead to glass products being widespread. This paper will discuss some of the methods of glass production throughout history, the types of silicate glass, and the different ways that glass can be colored.