James Street

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

Secondly, they invest a lot of time in how they appear to other people. The outside of a home is the first thing someone sees when they stop by or pass through a street, so good first impressions are something homeowners take very seriously. In comparison, travel to North Gaines street in Davenport, Iowa. The homes that line this street are small. Front lawns are clut- tered with weeds, patchy grass, and various other children’s toys. Sidewalks are over- grown with weeds, and outdoor landscapes are

June Lévesque, also known as “The Snake Lady”, has been living in the streets and performing black magic, in the streets of New Orleans longer than anyone could remember. Her nickname is well earned, everyday she steals and cheats people, slithers her way through the streets all day and night tricking visitors into believing her gibberish and giving her money. The childhood of Miss Lévesque, had been quite similar to the way she lives now. Grungy and dirty, living with her mother in a small shotgun

Huckleberry Lane and all the world seemed to be asleep. The wind swept through the small town of Hampton that morning, encasing the whole town in a thin sheet of snow that stuck to the streets. School children had celebrated with joyous cries as the flakes kissed the ground. The games and snow fights filled the streets of Hampton had filled the day with laughter and pink-tinted cheeks. Once darkness began to arrive, mothers called to their children with the promise of warm soups and flaky desserts.