A belief that people share, regardless of their cultural or ethnic background, is "Home Sweet Home". This saying implies that our home town, province, or village is usually the sweetest place, since it is bonded with the most beautiful and unforgettable memories of our childhood. This belief is most meaningful to people who have to live in exile or have do a lot of traveling. People usually have the same comment when asked about their feeling towards their hometown, "There is no place like home." As for me, I will always have a very strong and special emotion whenever I think about my home village, where I was born and spent my entire childhood. That is the feeling that it suits me and binds me closely to my village, and though it is out of sight, it is never out of mind.
I'll never forget that happy moment, the time I returned home when it first comes into sight again, rising out of the screen of thick green bamboo trees. I see the range of blue high mountains, the long bridge over the river, and the market with its white painted stands; complimented by an air of prosperity and animation because of its quaint commercial quarter.
At the market, swarming crowds create a bustling uproar. The busiest market day of the week is Sunday. As early as six o'clock in the morning, people from the surrounding village flock to the market with all sorts of products. Women with two big baskets on each side of their carrying poles filled with vegetables, such as fruits, eggs or rice, while men bring their treasure cattle to be sold. It is quite a sight to see numerous carriages of all sorts being driven up and down the main street of the market place. From the primary school located at the end of the market pla ce, came the shrill voices of children learning their lessons aloud. But at the opposite end of the market, silence reigns over the narrow winding streets, while the distance echoes the sound of broken thatch roofed cottages where the newborn infants' cr ies mingle with mothers' crooning and rhythmic rocking of hammocks. But at the other end of the village, it is quieter and more pleasant. A magnificent old pagoda stands before a great lake, its water is as clear as glass. This pagoda is a typical ancient structure emphasized with red colors and curved roofs; and carvings of dragons, lions, turtles, and a phoenix symbolic of power, courage, longevity and wealth.
What is home? Home does not necessarily have to be a specific place it could also be a place that you feel safe or comfortable in. From the early 1500s to the late 1900s, Britain used its superior naval, technological, and economic power to colonize and control territories worldwide which affected how most of these people's thoughts on what home is. In “Back to My Own Country” this story is about a girl that moved to london at a young age and was forced to change her morals and beliefs to try and seem less than an outsider to the community. The second story “Shooting an Elephant” is about orwell, a sub divisional police officer in Moulmein who was hated by large numbers of people and didn't feel welcome where he was and later was forced
Each person has a place that calls to them, a house, plot of land, town, a place that one can call home. It fundamentally changes a person, becoming a part of who they are. The old summer cabins, the bedroom that was always comfortable, the library that always had a good book ready. The places that inspire a sense of nostalgic happiness, a place where nothing can go wrong.
She is heartwarming as a soft gentle breeze; she soothes your soul like Mama’s chicken noodle soup. In 1837, she became a city; Chicago is her name, the third largest city in the United States. Chicago rests on 237 square miles of land along the border of Lake Michigan. If you are searching for adventure, cultural events, and festivals Chicago is the place to be. Nicknamed the Windy City, the city with big Shoulders the late singer Frank Sinatra best describes Chicago in one of his songs, as his kind of town. Chicago’s summers are magnificent on a hot sultry summer night nothing is better than walking along 15 miles of beaches, the lakefront, or strolling thru Grant Park, pausing in front of Buckingham fountain while the cool breeze from the lake and the mist from the lighted fountain can cool the body off.
From across the room I could see the bright yellow, pink and red flowers. Taking some steps forward there was even more to like. The overall appearance is a depiction of everyday life. The setting is outside in a grassy area. The sky looks grey but is turning brighter. There is a house in the country whose owner is in the front milking a cow. There is a dead tree that stands bear in the center. The objects that appear closest are a broken fence and the intensely bright colored flowers. All of the objects seem animated and do not seem realistic. The clouds are grey and sharp. Making the viewer feel that something is wrong. It looks like a storm was just taking place. The wind blew the clouds away and is still blowing the grass to the right.
My home is my haven and the place that I feel the safest and most comfortable at. It is where many good memories and feelings arise and I am able to be myself with no false pretenses. It is my “Home Sweet Home” yet the stories “Young Goodman Brown,” by Nathaniel Hawthorne, and “Soldier’s Home,” by Ernest Hemingway show a different attitude about home going and the effects it has on the main characters.
Home is experienced in a multitude of ways using our senses. Impressions of our past and present homes materialize from a familiar smell, sight, feeling, taste or sound. We all live in a multi-sensory environment, where we can use one or more of our senses on a daily basis to absorb our surroundings. However, it is easily arguable that although each sense can conjure up a memory, or imprint a grasp of where we live or lived, certain senses are stronger with the recollection or the feelings we have of our home. If we live in the same home as other people, some of us will associate a certain smell to the home, while others will not; or a sound, etc., that I would not associate with that home.
The discussion of children and school also gives well meaning of an organized and well-balanced village the people have put together, one the average parent would want their children raised in. “They tended to gather together quietly for a while before they broke into boisterous play, and their talk was still of the classroom and the teacher, of books and reprimands (p.445).” The thought of children playing also illustrates of a positive outlook for the rest of the story, a sense of happiness.
This voices to the reader how the people in the village are beginning their day, the people from the village are mainly gathering for the year’s Lottery. From the look of things this lottery is not going to take much time to conclude, it began at ten o’clock in the morning, but the reader is informed that it should “through in time for to allow the villagers to get home for noon dinner” The lottery is the village’s event which every person is permitted to participate; regardless the age, these are ordinary people who have gathered for an “ordinary” event. The men are talking about farming and taxes whiles the women are exchanging gossip, there’s all kinds of activities going on leading the reader to the anticipation of the Lottery.
The next theme used by the author to inspire a feeling of despair in this story is the randomness of persecution. By making the villagers draw these slips of paper once a year would provoke a feeling of hopelessness. Because they know that no matter what they do one day they may be subjected to this brutal death. And it woul...
A sense of place is the ideology that people possess when they feel that they belong to a given surrounding. Therefore, through their existence and a sense of belonging on a given environment, people do tend to have a special connection with their immediate surroundings, and therefore, they will do everything to protect their habitat. This, in a sense, is instrumental in affecting the positionality of people with such belonging to one given
Home is where you go and everyone, everyone has to love you, Home is where your Family is. Loung Ung grew up much of her life with little family in comparison to the large group she left behind half way across the globe in Cambodia in exchange for promise in America. We read about this in the novel Lucky Child an autobiography by Loung Ung. All the big moments of Loung’s life, all the people, and memories by the end of the day that she remembers most are the ones Loung shares with family the same is true for her sister and at the moments when she felt hate she was alone without her sister and vis versa.
Home is a term that is used throughout the world as the place where one lives.
A red brick house on top of a small hill is where my memories reside. A slightly curved gravel road led to the front of the house. Eight or nine rose brown apple trees randomly covered the plush green lawn. Down the small hill, muddy brown water trickled down a ditch with cattails surrounding it. One enormous willow tree sat in the background, to the right of the house, to complete the picture. It almost seemed like a picture from a postcard. But when you're a kid none of this really matters. All that really matters to you is to have as much fun as possible. My memories don't come just from this beautiful picture but from the little things making it.
Everyone has a special place that people will never forget. Sometimes it is because there were places that people experienced great joy or comfort. A special place represents peoples’ special memories either good or bad. Memory will following people whole life, and store people’s heart deeper. Good memory will coming all time. My special place and my memory is my grandparent’s house; my grandparent’s house practically is my second home. I would never forget that special place because of things going on my grandparent’s house, which is symbolized by my grandparent’s love.
A place, for me, is somewhere that I am familiar with and I recognize it in some way as my own special geographic location. It is somewhere I am emotionally attached to and it is a place that I wish to remain at. I personally feel that it has taken me years to achieve this particular comprehension about where for certain that place is for me in my life, and to make out why I feel a certain way about being within the walls of my own home. I have now come to realize that my home is where my heart will always truly be, because I believe it is the only place where I will always be loved without