The Last Night Of Salzburg

I was a passenger in the backseat of our family vehicle. The small bumps in the pavement lulled me to a place of perfect repose. As we looked outside our windows we could see the sky painting a magnificent show for us. The sun was going down, but the heavens were brighter and more astounding than I had ever seen them before. It was as if someone had set the clouds alight with raging wildfires and splashes of pink and purple scattered about. I never wanted it to end, but the sky had other plans. The masterpiece before us began to recede into darkness as the nighttime engulfed the sun and put daytime to

The star-studded romantic comedy Midnight in Paris is one of Woody Allen’s most recent films which he did both, wrote and directed. It is a film about a man named Gil (Owen Wilson) who travels to Paris with his fiancée’s parents in order to expand his imagination and he ends up embarking on a journey to the 1920s while walking the streets of Paris at night. Not only is this film engaging and witty, but it also manages to provide both, overt and covert examples of postmodernism in film. By analyzing Woody Allen’s 2011film Midnight in Paris, we can identify the presence of many underlying motifs in both the narrative and the characterization of the film when using some of Frederic Jameson and Jean Baudrillard’s concepts on postmodernism.

The night air was heavy with silence. Clouds drifted across a calm sky, and a full moon shone in the distance. In a small hut on the outskirts of the valley, an old man lay in bed, awake in the peaceful slumber of the village. His breaths came in rattling gasps, his forehead burned, and his joints felt stiff with pain. He shifted on the blankets, his withered hands clenched in fists as he tried to suppress the wave of bitter memories coming to him. His life had been nothing more than work, loss, tragedy. He remembered all of his hope, his ambition, in his youth, and he smiled bitterly. No one would remember him as the man that he had once hoped he would become. Now, as his breathing became heavier and he felt himself fading on the brink of

Memories of the night before became a vivid memory in the recesses of his dimly lit mind, underneath the sunlight's intruding yet blissful gaze and the sensation of silk against his bare skin felt like a euphoria, a river of midnight encased his slender figure and with the scrunch of his refined nose and furrowed knit of his thin eyebrows, he rose from his slumber. Delicate fingertips leisurely danced across the silken sheets which lost its assuaging warmth only to discern that he was gone, Padding through the spacious house far too big for two alone to fill, and too much of a burden for one to find comfort in. To see his lover, clad in a suit that managed to take his breath away immediately

I barely notice the cool hardwood floor on my back as I bask in the early dawn light seeping through the gap in my curtains. As I stare silently at a darker version of my yellow ceiling for what feels like the hundredth time, I strain my ears to hear the voice again. I miss it like a friend; my only friend in this hollow abyss where I’m imprisoned between the tips of my husband’s claws.

The sun shines through the small basement window of the house. It’s early morning beams piercing across the face of a young girl as she sleeps. It takes awhile for the brightness to penetrate her green eyes but when it does she stretches lazily under the covers closing those eyes for yet one more moment of dreams. She suddenly bolts upright as she remembers what today is.

You sit reclined in the cockroach infested darkness on a bed that is not yours, but you find that actually, it is far comfier than the one that you try to sleep on back home. In your own bed, the rusty springs that dig deep into your ribs serve as a welcome reminder of cold reality as your mind swims in the black waters of blissful agony. Here women scream, children scream but best of all the men scream in a high-pitched symphony of beautifully poised terror.

It was 5 A.M. and my thoughts were everywhere. I kept tossing and turning, desperately trying to fall asleep, but knowing I couldn't. I finally slipped out of bed, carefully so that I wouldn't wake up Olivia, and proceeded to walk down the stairs. I sat down on the living room couch and exhaled deeply as I stared into the sunroof.

I sat in the common area as the other patients colored and played cards. What they were doing didn’t really matter to me, I just wanted to be alone. I’d always feel like I was drowning, so it came to me as a surprise to me when the nurses told me that if I were breathing, I was winning. At night I’d lay on the blue plastic mattress and miss my room and everything it stood for. The blue lights that are strung along my bed, illuminate my nights. The pictures of the one I love line my walls, they are the barrier that protects me from the rest of the world. The blue plastic mattress draped in thin white sheets stood for the cold empty feeling I couldn’t get rid of. My nights were full of my thoughts bombarding my

As I lay in bed, I can only think about the terror that’s going to occur tonight. My tooth is really loose, and my dad said he’s going to be pulling it out tonight when I’m sleeping. But how am I supposed to sleep, knowing this? I blindly grapple around my bed, searching for Mr. Giggles and my baby blanket. My hand closes around a small leg, and I pull Mr. Giggles into a tight embrace. With Mr. Giggles in my arms, I wrap myself into my blanket. The warmth of my blanket makes me feel drowsy, but I force my eyes to stay wide open. I have to stay up all night and brace myself; I cannot fall asleep!

The RMS Titanic; A Tragedy Based on Class. In April, 1912, the so called "unsinkable" Titanic set sail to New York. The great ship was as big as five city blocks, and weighed thousands and thousands of tons. Everyone who was everyone grabbed a room on the luxurious ship for the trip of a lifetime. On April 14, 1912, the RMS Titanic struck an iceberg an sank into the icy depths of the North Atlantic.

Before I knew it, it was late at night and almost my bedtime. I made my way, up the stairs to the loft, slowly dragging my feet up each huge log stair from being so tired. I finally made my way up to the loft although the only light source was coming from one-single lit candle downstairs on the kitchen table. As I pulled the covers off the tiny twin bed, it was extremely hot, so I decided

At night, beyond the public eye, the rooftop comforts me, provides me a my safe haven. I hear the wind whispering my name to escape: but I do not listen. Being in my own world ushers a feeling of fright, yet also comes as a relief. With no one there to judge me; I sit alone, with the company of my inner demons.. I close my eyes, my demons have assailed me all day, midnight is their time. The void of judgment has remained. It’s dark, but at the end you see a flash of light. So, I walk in the obesity of my mind where the darkness has taken over. The sense of being paralyzed comes to my mind, my fears are woken up and the sense of neglect is off. I smell fear all around. I do not smell the smoke from the burning wood I left. The smell of fear and sweat are much more dominant,I feel my hands are getting sweaty, my body frozen, paralyzed. My heart beats faster than ever before. My Demons have become vigorous. An explosion of fear, rage, sadness and anxiety overwhelms me, but I cannot wake up. Powerless, my demons pull me into the darkest depths of my mind where I try to hold on for dear mercy.

I am shock by what I am seeing now. I find myself flying in the middle of the boundless sky like an eagle. The beauty of the earth is all under my eyes now. I can see the greenish forests, the giant mountains, the empty lands, and the busy cities that are far away. But the most beautiful thing is the blue sky itself where I am in. Suddenly the next moment, I was standing on the roof of a 100-stories tall skyscraper while enjoying my expensive wine and the landscape of the city. When I look down, although I am scared of heights, I see the miniature of pedestrians and cars that are moving around. Travelling in an imagination world is probably the most joyful thing to do in the life. I don’t where I will be next yet, but it will come to my mind when it is the right time.

It was three o’clock in the morning. Outside the window, the sky was still dark. There were barely any stars in the sky, and no cloud cluttered. The sky was painfully dark and motionless. Except for the faint light from the moon, everything seems lifeless. In a dark room, there was a girl sitting up on the bed, leaning on the wall beside her. She was looking out the window. Through the window, the girl can see the sky and the top of some buildings, however, nothing special or attractive. But, the girl has been staring at it for almost an hour now, silently and peacefully.