Holywell Street

In between the busy streets of 35th avenue and 43rd lies my silent and kind neighborhood. Where everyone is nice to each other and not lousy or mean.  About two months ago, my mother bought our first home. My house looks like a duplex because there are two entrances, one on the left and right and it also has two drive ways. Turning into my neighborhood you right away see that it  is a dead end street, and has very few houses one each side of the road. There is not really anything that grabs one's

Ann Petry’s The Street is so much more than a story of ethnicity; it 's equally a tale about the struggles of women, and more so the sad plight of anyone who lives in poverty. What we see is that despite heroic determination, the system is structured to wear down and push against Lutie, the protagonist’s very best efforts. The Street takes us on a journey that helps us experience the dynamics of poverty and understand the thought processes of people trapped in it. The Street is a truly haunting and

find out it was my boss William asking me if I was alright. ¨Yes Sir. I am fine.¨ I said. ¨Alright then get back to work.¨ William said. So I continued my work until the final work whistle rang. As I walked to my home in mist, I see people on the streets asking for change and begging for the scrapes from the bakery. As I got to the house where I live. When I came into my house my wife was cooking a stew on the stove. She asked, “How was work today honey.” Well I wanted to tell her about my day dream

carton of milk or some eggs. At the same time, you can never walk more than 15 minutes in our small town without metting someone that will put a smile on your face. I have lived in the same house in Mead Colorado all my life. I have walked these streets and played in the parks for all my childhood. Living in Mead and volunteering in the town has showed me the role people play in our lives. It is due to this knowledge of how others impact our lives I have decide to pursue psychology and teaching at

the most uncomfortable. It was a very cold November day. I was walking down the streets of my home tome, Babylon New york. As I walk down the street littered with fancy BMWs and Mercedes, I cant help but feel out of place stepping out of my 1997 Jeep that has two working windows and a busted tail light. This is my home town but sometimes it can make you feel like you don’t belong. As I continued my walk down the street I could see that the leaves on the perfectly groomed trees were beginning to turn

kane and lonely streets the car disappears behind the store alley. The camera is blocked, but moves at the same speed the car is behind the building. We hear the radio turn on the car the sounds it expels giving an American twang. Another reason to adore the scene is the world it inhabits. As the camera goes back to ground level it stays at a steady pace following the car, which is anticipating the action. We can see the architecture as the car the couple are in moves by the street, making the viewers

“Gavin, do not pull the trigger!” I shouted across the alleyway. Before I could finish my sentence, the bullet had left the muzzle of the slick hand gun and straight into the once blood bumping heart of the victim. The power of one small, metal bullet was unthinkable, taking away another one’s unconditional love, a lifetime of memories. The gunshot cracked into the air as loud as the thunder. I examined Gavin’s face. Fear, guilt and regret was written all over it. He ran over to the lifeless body

scenarios which I, myself, do not believe I could withstand. Initially, the book showed me that the Jews were despised, preyed upon, and often felt very unsafe just walking in the street. It’s very sad that people felt unsafe around their homes, and where they grew up. It’s also sad that Jews were harrassed in the street and around their houses. I think you should be able to walk freely without being nervous to be taunted. The Jews, however, couldn’t walk freely, were so often spit on, and called

Buzzing townspeople littered the streets, emitting an atmosphere of excitement and anticipation. Basil leaves that atmosphere behind, weaving through the dim alleyways, each turn further distancing him from the noise. Soon the cobble path turned into gravel, each step making a crunch that bounced and echoed on the decaying walls. A cool breeze from behind him pulled at his gray cloak, entering the dark abyss of the warehouse entrance before him. He steels himself— shoulders lowered, chin up, and

their mouth to hide it, and if you don’t do what they want, they will mark a scar on your face. These pictures were so shocking that they remained in my head for many years. As a matter of fact, my friends and I did our best to avoid empty and dark streets when returning from school especially when it’s the night to prevent getting mugged or even aggressed with no reason. When I was about 10, years old my parents did not let me play far from our house I couldn’t figure out why until one day a friend