Based on my generation from age eight to ten I loved playing at Lawrence Park in Tucson, AZ. Every time my parents would ask, “where do you want to go” I would literally yell, “the park!” Being bored inside all I wanted to do was play tag, run, and climb the monkey bars all day. Lawrence was the one destination where I could be free: no one telling me to stop running, be quiet, or keep my hands to myself. I can remember having the time of my life as a kid enjoying myself at Lawrence Park. Hopefully I could say the same for an older generation and future generation compared to my experience of play. Arriving in the small parking lot, I instantly hopped off from my mom’s old brown car. Getting hit with a breeze of fresh air outside, smelling the wet grass, hearing the bees buzz near the blue trash cans, causes my heart to start beating fast like popcorn being microwaved. Moving my head as if I was an owl, searching for my mom, “mom can I go play” repeatedly like a broken record, she responds, “yes, go ahead!” Jumping with glee, sprinting like a cheetah on the black pavement leading to my favorite playground I called “The Yellow one.” Then, as I left my head up my eyes began to open wide.
Closer and closer I get to the entrance I could see the red velvet ramp that leads to a small baby slide and a set of blue faded monkey bars on
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Me and my mother both have had a bad experience when it comes to playing with others. It wasn’t fun anymore “when we couldn’t agree on rules of the game, then parents would get involved.” Same for me, there was this time when little Jenny couldn’t tag anyone, so she would fake cry and as soon as you checked to see if she was okay, Jenny would tag you. Which was unfair, because she did it all the time when she was it, so I said, “no more fake crying.” Others thought it was okay and others disagree, resulting in an argument of who's right and wrong, wasting time that we could be
Saint Basil Cathedral is a beautiful and huge building and I would love to see. The Cathedral standing high with its detail in beauty is alone neat. Colorful not just with its beauty but has a colorful history as well. This is a place that one day I hope to visit and explore not just in books and on line. This building’s creator was Ivan the forth, also known as “Ivan the Terrible.” The original name is actually Cathedral of Vasily the Blessed. It is also known as Cathedral of the Intercession of the most holy Theotokos on the Moat, by the people of Russia. In English it is known as Pokrovsky Cathedral. It was constructed in 1555-1561 by Ivan the 4th. It was the city’s tallest building until the completion of Ivan the Great Bell Tower
The window was cold to the touch. The glass shimmered as the specks of sunlight danced, and Blake stood, peering out. As God put his head to the window, at once, he felt light shining through his soul. Six years old. Age ceased to define him and time ceased to exist. Silence seeped into every crevice of the room, and slowly, as the awe of the vision engulfed him, he felt the gates slowly open. His thoughts grew fluid, unrestrained, and almost chaotic. An untouched imagination had been liberated, and soon, the world around him transformed into one of magnificence and wonder. His childish naivety cloaked the flaws and turbulence of London, and the imagination became, to Blake, the body of God. The darkness lingering in the corners of London slowly became light. Years passed by, slowly fading into wisps of the past, and the blanket of innocence deteriorated as reality blurred the clarity of childhood.
The blocks of concrete sidewalk in between two rusty, red brick buildings prickle my skin. I lay out my piece of brown corrugated cardboard and am comforted by its smoothness. It provides insulation on a breezy summer night. I curl up, cramped, in the fetal position; my limbs grow limp as my eyelids weigh down over two chocolate eyes. I can feel my fuzzy black dreadlocks falling down the nape of my neck and into the collar of my thin cotton t-shirt. I pull my white tube socks up to my knees with the help of my toes; only the space between them and the bottom of my shorts is now left uncovered and open to the wind. I deliberately position myself in an attempt to conserve energy before morning comes and invites my stomach to turn into a ferocious growling beast. The storeowner will harp about me finding another stoop by prodding my body with a cobweb-infested broom. I will worry about that tomorrow. For now, I escape into a deep, silent slumber. I begin to dream of another life with a different social setting.
Lilly Barels never thought she would be a writer. As a UCLA graduate who double majored in Neuroscience and Dance, her relationship with creative writing ended in High School. However, almost fifteen years later, in the midst of a broken marriage and lost in the fog of un-fulfillment, Barels discovered the creative channel that would transform her from a high school physics teacher to a soon-to-be published writer. After a passionate and healing love affair with poetry, she was accepted into the MFA program at Antioch Los Angeles. In 2012, Barels received her Masters in Creative Writing with a focus in fiction. Barels just finished her second novel, and she is a regular contributor to Huffington Post.
Neptune, New Jersey. Obviously named for the Roman god, Neptune. Located exactly 40.212438°N and 74.054017°W. The town’s quite large, and there’s tons of places you can go. But since moving here, I’ve only gotten familiar with places that I can walk to with my dog, Chewie. With a plastic bag in one hand, and his leash in the other, we walk around my neighborhood and explore together.
A couple of friends and I went camping last summer around Pitt Lake. We were a group of four skinny urkels who knew almost nothing about camping, and it didn’t help to have hiking backpacks twice our size and weight. One day, we were canoeing on the lake about 2 hours from land, and almost 4 hours from our destination. Out of the blue, a loud roar echoed through my ears. I first I thought it was the 3 cups of Mr.Noodles I hogged this morning until one of my buddies yelled out “THUNDER” . Being the charismatic leader I am, I calmly tried to reassure them that it was going to be okay, but all that came out of my mouth was a loud screech. I was more motivated than ever to reach our destination, but my friend was, even more, eager to reach shore
It is 6:25 in the morning. The outside is still pitch black; there is no hint of sunlight coming through the curtain. It will be hours before sunrise. I can barely see my fingers in front of my face.
I can hear the hum of taxi cabs whizzing past me as I stand on the corner of the busy downtown street. New York City! I still can't believe that I'm here or that I'm staying here. Aunt Allison was so sweet to let me live in her place whilst she travels around south America. I step out onto the road when the traffic light changed from green to red.
The smell at Tim Horton’s has always set me off. There is something about that blend of coffee and chemicals from the cleaning products that makes me want to leave the place as soon as I get there. Tim Horton’s is unfortunately Nicolas’ favorite place in Saint-Bruno. It’s also the only place opened after 10 pm, so I can’t suggest hanging out somewhere else.
So it was approximately two in the afternoon and I was sitting in the passenger seat of my mom’s black-cherry colored Honda truck. We had decided to get something to eat at a subway we saw on the way home. The building had a very warm and inviting atmosphere with tiled flooring and walls of caramel. We walked into the building and the aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling brown bacon welcomed us.
He is sitting in front of the desk, searching for clues. He has not been able to find any links to the crime. Every mystery he has solved has some flaws in it. For past two weeks, he has not been able to find any loopholes in the plan. Every time he starts again digs deep and deep but the hunt always ends in disappointment.
A good park should allow you to both see and walk through it with clear paths. https://www.pps.org/reference/play_elements/ ENHANCING PHYSICAL AND SOCIAL EXPERIENCE An overview of elements, issues and obstacles that play experts and others have defined as central to developing a successful play area. PHYSICAL Flexibility: Design decisions should allow for diverse activity, including games, and with natural elements Variety: Provide a variety of spaces, seats, bushes, plantings,equipment, and pathways.
On a gorgeous Saturday morning of September 10th, 2016, my grandmother and I talked about going to Lynd’s Fruit Farm. It was my first time going to Lynd’s Fruit Farm, but my grandmother had already been there once before when my mom was pregnant with me. We decided that we wanted to go, so I drove us there. As we were driving down Morse Road, I noticed that traffic was heavier than usual. I was not sure where to park at first, so I just parked in the Fruit Farm market main parking lot. The parking lot was full of cars, parents with their strollers, little...
The fleeting changes that often accompany seasonal transition are especially exasperated in a child’s mind, most notably when the cool crisp winds of fall signal the summer’s end approaching. The lazy routine I had adopted over several months spent frolicking in the cool blue chlorine soaked waters of my family’s bungalow colony pool gave way to changes far beyond the weather and textbooks. As the surrounding foliage changed in anticipation of colder months, so did my family. My mother’s stomach grew larger as she approached the final days of her pregnancy and in the closing hours of my eight’ summer my mother gently awoke me from the uncomfortable sleep of a long car ride to inform of a wonderful surprise. No longer would we be returning to the four-story walk up I inhabited for the majority of my young life. Instead of the pavement surrounding my former building, the final turn of our seemingly endless journey revealed the sprawling grass expanse of a baseball field directly across from an unfamiliar driveway sloping in front of the red brick walls that eventually came to be know as home.
Growing up in a massive neighborhood magnificent. My neighborhood flooded with kids around my age to hang out with. Occupying the edge of this neighborhood was a large park where the neighborhood’s kids and I would spend most of our time eliminating their boredom. When this park would not satisfy our needs, there were