For the record, I hate this city. Dirty, crowded, chaotic. Unfortunately, everyone else seems to flock here. Which is why it became like it is. A mass population cannot exist within such a small square mile area without such side effects. A bustling metropolis of technology and economy exudes lights and pace, but it is always the darkness I see, hiding in the dark alleys, creeping in the shadows to suffocate city dwellers with sorrow and decay.
My mother had loved the city. She said that it had ‘character’. That’s what she called it. Yeah, like the way a sociopath has ‘character’. Before the accident, I think I liked it here. I am sure that at one time I found it very interesting and liberating. But a lot has changed since then. I have changed. I have the scar on my skull from the accident to prove my survival. The banner of my tragedy. The secret marking of… my gift. And now this city is my prison. It is the everyday reminder of my mother’s death, how I could not save her, and the irony of what I cannot understand. I feel trapped here, and I can barely breathe.
Someone slammed into me from behind, and I sighed, readjusting my blazer and turning up the volume on my iPhone. I absolutely hated riding the subway. It was crowded and smelled like sweat and old Chinese food and rusted metal. My only solace was the large headphones hugging my ears for dear life, allowing me my escape.
I lowered my head to look at the dirty metal floor of the subway car, letting my hair fall around my face like a dark shroud. My music blared in my ears as I closed my eyes, gripping the sticky metal pole and trying desperately to pretend that I was somewhere else.
I lifted my head as I felt the train begin to sl...
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...aze moved away, and I froze.
Across the street was a girl wearing the same school uniform I was wearing. I had never seen her before, and I knew she had never seen me. I was very good at staying invisible at my academy. Well, I used to be good at it, because now she was looking right at me. She had a strange thoughtful smile on her face as she watched me. She slowly raised her blue polished index and middle fingers to her eyes, and then pointed them at me.
I gripped my headphones tightly and slammed them back over my ears. Spinning on my heels, I turned around and began to walk back towards the subway. I shouldered the crowds aside, fighting to disappear down the street as quickly as I could. I let the ominous dark buildings and heaving crowds swallow me up. Someone knew my secret, and now it was my life that could be slipping away.
Diane Urban, for instance, was one of the many people who were trapped inside this horror. She “was comforting a woman propped against a wall, her legs virtually amputated” (96). Flynn and Dwyer appeal to the reader’s ethical conscience and emotions by providing a story of a victim who went through many tragedies. Causing readers to feel empathy for the victims. In addition, you began to put yourself in their shoes and wonder what you would do.
The urban setting can instantly be recognized as an antagonist to anyone who faces it. The imagery of the city reveals its formidable nature. The
A storm such as Katrina undoubtedly ruined homes and lives with its destructive path. Chris Rose touches upon these instances of brokenness to elicit sympathy from his audience. Throughout the novel, mental illness rears its ugly head. Tales such as “Despair” reveal heart-wrenching stories emerging from a cycle of loss. This particular article is concerned with the pull of New Orleans, its whisper in your ear when you’ve departed that drags you home. Not home as a house, because everything physical associated with home has been swept away by the storm and is now gone. Rather, it is concerned with home as a feeling, that concept that there is none other than New Orleans. Even when there is nothing reminiscent of what you once knew, a true New Orleanian will seek a fresh start atop the foundation of rubbish. This is a foreign concept for those not native to New Orleans, and a New Orleanian girl married to a man from Atlanta found her relationship split as a result of flooding waters. She was adamant about staying, and he returned to where he was from. When he came back to New Orleans for her to try and make it work, they shared grim feelings and alcohol, the result of which was the emergence of a pact reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet. This couple decided they would kill themselves because they could see no light amongst the garbage and rot, and failure was draining them of any sense of optimism. She realized the fault in this agreement,
In this passage “The Street” by Ann Petry, Lutie Johnson’s relationship with her urban setting is expressed using figurative language. Lutie allows us to walk with her and experience one cold November night near the streets of seventh and eighth avenue. The relationship between Lutie Johnson and the urban setting is established using personification, imagery, and characterization.
...he city and has suffered as a result of losing so much of its tax base to the 1967 riots. The event should be used as a cautionary tale to other cities in transition to be cognizant of demographic changes and represent all of your citizens living within your city.
The narrator throughout the story talks about this viaduct killer that has murdered 6 adult women, the different sectors of the town and there different ritualized violent acts. Yet no one wants to believe that these murders are caused by one of there own fine citizens. An example of the citizens false sense of security is “Forty years ago, in winter, the body of a woman was found on the banks of the river. She had been raped and murdered, ...a prostitute, never identified—and the noises of struggle that must have accompanied her death went unnoticed by the patrons of the Green Woman Taproom, located directly above that point on the river where her body was discovered. It was an abnormally cold winter that year, a winter of shared misery, and within the Green Woman the music was loud, feverish, festive.” (paragraph 6), because the body of the woman was never identified shows that the police never pursued the case and didn't care about what had happened and brushed it off. The narrator also explains that the music was loud, feverish and festive which gives the reader an idea of a city because the city is a loud place with clubs, bars and restaurants that are pretty occupied at
There is little point in portraying it as something it is not. Its beauty is not as awe-inspiring as other cities. It is not even particularly old, and much of what may have constituted its historical legacy has over the centuries been all too quickly sacrificed to make way for the new. It is largely a modern city, a product of 19th and 20th centuries, and the expanses of its outer dormitory suburbs and peripheral high-rise apartment jungles are an oppressive introduction for anyone driving into the city for the first
I trudged up and down the stairs, hauling the majority of my belongings behind me. As I rounded the corner, I saw her, my future roommate. Overwhelmed by panic, it took all my willpower not to turn around in that instant. Mustering
What makes a person gifted has been debated historically and continues on today. The debate has been influenced by politics and culture, which impact how gifted children are educated. The three articles discussed in this paper explore the origins, development, social-emotional impact, and politics of giftedness.
Pythia Peay explains that for everywhere that she has resided, each place had a unique effect on her character. Each of the five cities in which she has lived contributed in some part to who she is today. She goes on to point out that each city or town has its own unique sense of soul. Peay believes that in our present day people are beginning to lose their sense of place. A city’s inhabitants lay blind to the fact that in some way their own character is shaped “within the city’s larger reality” (4). The body of her essay consists of six methods to help anyone discover the soul of their hometown.
I was strolling down the hallway, trying to figure out where my class would be, when I bumped into a girl. “Oh goodness! I am so sorry. I wasn 't looking," she said and bent down to grab my file and books even before I could. I sighed and replied, “No, it 's fine." I wiped the sweat, which I had accumulated from walking all over the school, off my forehead. She stood up and handed me my books. I realized she was also a freshman by her orange colored uniform. She flipped her hair and said while grinning," Let me introduce myself. I 'm Natasha. I 'm from Canada so I don 't really know much about this town. How about you?" Even though I had never met her before, I could tell she seemed nice so I introduced myself. I had to make a judgment to decide whether to befriend the girl or not. Little did I know this stranger was
Upon arrival into the jungle of vast buildings, the first thing noticed is the mobbed streets filled with taxi cabs and cars going to and fro in numerous directions, with the scent of exhaust surfing through the air. As you progress deeper into the inner city and exit your vehicle, the aroma of the many restaurants passes through your nostrils and gives you a craving for a ?NY Hot Dog? sold by the street venders on the corner calling out your name. As you continue your journey you are passed by the ongoing flow of pedestrians talking on their cell phones and drinking a Starbucks while enjoying the city. The constant commotion of conversing voices rage up and down the streets as someone calls for a fast taxi. A mixed sound of various music styles all band together to form one wild tune.
Pedaling my bike, I swerved left and right, dodging all sorts of trash which littered the desolate ground beneath my feet. The car was gaining ground fast; its ebony visage glaring at me like some hell-spawned demon. A cold clammy hand seemed to envelope my body. I knew I could not escape.
Not being able to stand such self-torture, I hurried my pace to what was almost a jog, until I had caught up with the unfortunately boring group that I was, as I felt, universally bound to. I came to a bend in the tunnel, where I saw through the glass window, that which before entering, gave no hint of its existence. "I'll soon be in the air."
Where I live is one of the greatest neighborhoods in the city to live in; however it does have its draw backs. Importantly it has nearly everything a resident might want, beautiful picturesque scenery, proximity to shopping, and many of the cultural centers. Nevertheless the roads can be some of the most congested in town, and the streets are not safe to walk late at night.