body all the way to the sound of a heartbeat. My perfect place was deeply absorbed in my dull thoughts but finally, I have regained and found it. The perfect place to find joy, comfort and peaceful thoughts is being lost in nature. I find myself dreaming of the perfect place at a forest. It is a bamboo-brown, leafy paradise that when you look up, trees are tall as skyscraper. As I walk under every sprawling tree, they remind me of watching guardians. The only sound is the springs clear
When you part from a friend, it is a lose. You grieve from the absence of the presence. But, you rejoice in the presence of the power of love, left behind. 35 LIFE IS A LOVE Life is Love Life is love. Love is life. blossoming beauteously every day. I am love. I am life. I blossom beauteously every day. 36 Rose Sitting down with my paper and pen, just tapping into my creative
said, “only in the darkness can you see the stars.” with this, Nusrat relates because the stars shined brighter in the darkness of Faiz’s death. (BS-1)In the book, Under The Persimmon Tree, Nusrats’ loved ones are related to the stars in her mind because she has a basic connection with the stars. (BS-2) Additionally, when Nusrat realizes Faiz is dead, the author uses stars to symbolize her loss of faith. (BS-3)Similarly, the author uses Nusrat’s connection to the stars to symbolize her loss of faith
“where is my dad and mom?” He thought. At ths time he was wondering, the door of the house opened a little bit, and a dozen of people crept into the house, without any signs, and the home robot
while watching the 1979 solar eclipse. Using metaphors and Stream of Consciousness Writing she details her own dissociative hallucination. She begins her work by describing her morning, comparing it to an avalanche, “ It had been like dying, “ She wrote. “ that sliding down the mountain pass. It had been like the death of someone, irrational, that sliding down the mountain pass and into the region of dread. IT was like slipping into fever, or falling down that hole in sleep from which you wake yourself
not watching something. Sometimes imaging big dreams, big things distracted in soul visions but never finding anything in reality. Surrounded by same objects, life, people, big roads, big decisions, choices. We, the people-we are unique, we are a mosaic with rare, colorful pieces. The way we live the life, enjoy the world, see the things makes us who we are. In dark or light, confident or not, walking or halting. Under the sun’s beam, warm and relieved; under the cold moon and shining stars that
that she had, in fact, revealed too much. But when the Elder spoke, his voice was as soft as the trickling stream before them. “Death is a beautiful thing,” he said, his eyes on the running water. “One of the best things that can happen to you – hands down. Ya get to rise up, out of the muck and just…go home.” Valiant blinked. “Home?” she whispered, as if her voice would shatter the moment. “Home,” he repeated, with a sigh. His eyes were distant and clouded, as if beholding
Boom, boom, boom. “Mommy, that one is my favorite!” Screams a blonde haired, blue eyed five year old little girl as fireworks screech into the midnight sky over the crystal blue lake on the Fourth of July. Nearly two-hundred and forty years ago our beloved land was born, gaining independence from Great Britain and declaring America as its own. From that day forward July Fourth would be celebrated with parades, festivals, and get-togethers across the nation. Red, white, and blue blanketing towns,
over a dumpster. “Hey, get outta my house!” Yelled a very frightening looking old hobo with an eyepatch covering his entire left eye. “Sorry sir, I didn’t realize. I wasn’t paying attention. Would you mind if I stayed just until the storm passes?” He asked taken aback by the hobo’s appearance and demeanor. “Oh, I guess. But as soon as the rain stops you gotta leave!” He said sternly standing up revealing a post of wood where his right leg should be. “I suppose you wanna sit?” He asked “Yes please
This past summer, I invited Kate to stay at my cottage. Every night after a late dinner we went out to the point of the island and watched the boats go by while shouting at them. One night my mom called to us, “Guys, it’s getting dark outside come back in”. So we started running back and climbing up the rocks when something ran right past our feet. “What was that?” Kate asked me. I really had no idea what it was so I told her exactly that. The unknown creature turned out to be a vole, which we later