Brown-tail

opportunity, and that it was not just the tedious, time-consuming work that comes before what many view as the more important aspect of rehearsing and performing a piece. Banes goes on to give different recounts from previous students including Trisha Brown and Robert Dunn. After reading the article, the main point seems to be introducing the reader to the Judson Dance Theater and investigating their influence on the dance world. In the section pertaining to Dunn’s choreography class, Banes discusses

A warm smile and kind eyes is what attributes to a man, known as my father. He works hard and is diligent, but what defines him is the kindness that is always visible within him. My father, Ben Morgan, is forty-eight with light brown hair, and turquoise eyes that always have a sense purpose in them. From years of thinking, he has lines that rest by his eyes accompanied by the usual lines that encircle a smile he shows to all. My father has a kindness in him, in which no one in our family has. A few

identity by taking me to pow wows. At pow Wows, I remember seeing tribal members having a brown complexion along with dark hair performing festival dances, and thinking this could never be me. With my white complexion and light brown hair, I could never identify myself as being Native American. Growing up in a Latino community, I also struggled with relating to those around me. Whether at church or school, my light brown hair and white complexion made me stand out, which led to people always asking, “What

“Ouch!” Nova mumbled as she sat up holding her head. It felt like she had been hit with a baseball bat. Nova was a teenage girl with long black hair. Her skin was of a dark complexion. Her eyes were blurry because of the terrible headache she had. As she slowly gets up to examine her environs, she realizes she was in the middle of what seemed to be an abandoned circus tent. There were few rusted metal chairs and leftover rubbage. The weather-beaten tent was ridden with holes and reeked of mold. Finally

The Dreaded Gym Class  I don’t really enjoy exercise, the sweating, being out of breath etc. Therefore, I would never guess that a high school gym class would influence how I would be spending the rest of my life. Well, it never changed my opinion on exercise, but it did help me discover a passion for education and how people should be treated. I always assumed that I would be a vet, healing animals and having customers come from far and wide. However, around the age of twelve, I realized you

Dread doesn't even begin to describe what I am feeling this morning. It's the first day of school. Yeah, actually, literal, school. "But I don't wannnaaaa." I mumbled into my pillow but sadly my alarm clock doesn't speak English. I groan some more and grab the clock from off my bedside table. The cold metal woke me up a bit, but that doesn't mean I still wasn't happy with the metal piece of work. I threw the alarm clock across the room, which actually didn't make it shut up. "What was that?"

lost need to be found. Some can find their way back by themselves. It seems heartless, but that is the undeniable truth. Some will struggle for what seems to be forever, as Duska did. Now Duska was a simple person. She always wore her dark brown hair up in a tidy bun, save for the few stragglers that hung out of it. Her baby blue eyes were alight with joy and shifted with intelligence. She had a healthy tan from moving about the town with her friends and wore what she deemed appropriate and

“You don’t understand.” Marta had heard Maria whisper, as Fernando pushed her back to see her puffy red face. Marta’s hands had started sweating as a wave of heat enveloped her. She’d felt her eyes widen. Maria had never opposed anything Fernando said. “One evening Sonia couldn’t take Marta’s wailing no more. Sonia knew Marta was just hungry and I too, was crying. She looked at me and pulled me to her. She hugged me and said she loved me. She said she’d give her life for me and with that, she left

I'm going to describe a girl for you, try to keep up. Long light brown hair, vintage classy glasses, one lonely dimple on the lower part of her mouth, soft pale skin, stone cold stare, and a dry sense of humor. Can you picture her? Well if you can, then you’ve basically just met me. I usually try to force a smile, wait no scratch that– I used to try to force a smile. Now I'm not saying this so that you can view me as unhappy or negative, but in all fairness who has a smile as their natural way of

get ready fuzz ball.” I raised my eyebrow, confused. “What?” She pointed at the mirror and shut the door behind her. I glanced over at it, and saw my black hair in a giant heap of fuzz. Turning away, I looked back at myself. I had my father’s brown eyes and black hair that I kept at my shoulders and my mother’s tall, bony body and pale complexion. Thinking about my father, my eyes welled and I turned away. My