It was was very late, shadow cast and misty as the rain was coming down in alight steady drizzle. It was the type of drizzle which makes the city relinquish the steamy warmth so overly humid. The rain comes down and pools on top of the valleys of sweat. All from the drizzle and the hue cast humidity that relinquishes ones soul. The first realization that I was not alone was the stench of a smell. It came from far away. Enough so, that it could have been said to be steadily creeping up on me between the rain drops. It finally caught up to me and encircled itself around so that I had to notice the stench it imposed. At once it was a friend and a mystery. It was everything forbidden in abiding and everything I ever seemed to want. Quickly, I turned at a glance to find where it had come. He was leaning against the old rusty gates that was part of a building. From which the rain splatting against the rim of his faded dark cap and sliding down his black leather trench
coat. I shivered for several minutes. He never looked up at me. Not then, anyway. Time seamed to stop, as it turned suddenly from a slight drizzle to a hellish downpour.
Without looking at me, he motioned with his hand.
A shiver went up my spine as if doom was staring at me, as if time stood still. As I slowly walked, with ever slow foot steps toward him, I tried to get a slight look of his face, his hollow eyes. Both were slightly hidden. The warning signal went off deep inside the fear I felt. I should have run as the shivers ran up my spine. I didn't want to go toward him. As the fate I felt
was unending. When I closed in on him he lifted his hand, gloved in tattered leather, he brushed the icy cold finger tips over my eyes. Like a web of illusions, I closed my eyes.
His fingers slid down to my chin, then to my shoulder then my elbow.
I stared into his face, feeling a sense of outrage. His left eye had collapsed, a line of raw redness showing where the lid refused to close, and his gaze had lost its command. I looked from his face to the glass, thinking he's disem...
I must say that this film is very traumatizing. There are some images in this film that will be burned and scarred into my mind for as long as I live. I have seen many holocaust films, but no one was as near as dramatic and depicting as Night and Fog. However I did like the theme of this movie. It is very sad but yet realistic. Our minds are murky and dull. We tend to only remember the important situation in our lives. Yet we don’t remember the importance of our own history. I say OUR history be cause we all are human beings on this earth. Whether we believe in Allah, Jesus, Jehovah, or whatever higher power, we are all one race, and that the human race. It is very sad to know that human beings were treated and slaughtered just because of an ideology of superiority complex. Al though the Jewish people were massacred I learned that we must always keep a sense of hope in order to assure our own survival. When I saw in the movie the moments where there were journals that read about favorite foods and important dates, my heart was filled with sadness. Not because these victims didn’t have this to eat but because of the false illusions that they had to dream in order to stay sane.
The Olmec was the first expansive Mesoamerican society, laying many of the foundations for succeeding civilizations that followed. In addition to the Olmecs’ impressive socio-cultural advances, artistic advances placed the culture as a strong force in Mesoamerican history. Olmec artworks are considered among some of ancient America's most striking due to their high level of stylization and technical advances. In addition to Olmec artistic advances, the Olmecs did codify and record their gods and religious practices using art and glyphic symbols, embodying the characteristics of a highly developed society. Furthermore, each image created served a cultural purpose, either personally or publically for members of the society.. In Seated Bench Figure, a more personal approach to Olmec art making occurs, showcasing an adult holding an infant created in the were-jaguar style.
Increasing your knowledge in many cultural backgrounds can be beneficial to you and to understand how life is for other people with different cultural upbringing than you. Three stories I found that would be really interesting to not only the students but also to the other teachers that I could be working with are “From Shadows of a Childhood” by Elisabeth Gille, “From Catfish and Mandala: A Two-wheeled Voyage through the Landscape and Memory of Vietnam; Last Gamble” by Andrew X. Pham and “Shadows on the Wall” by Charles Mungoshi. I have chosen some articles that will provide more information on the topics and to help understand and explain that learning about other cultures will help the children become more educated with other cultures that
...en a strange feeling down his spine again, as if something was breathing on his neck. He turned slowly… seeing if someone was behind him and then boom! The figure was right there, about seven feet away, trying to grab him with his big, skinny, hands, with his sharp and dark fingernails that could rip a man’s heart out… He fell down, so surprised by the strange figure.
So anyways Reidd was walking when he neared some buildings, stopping with a front leg raised something had caught his attention, a scent. A peculiar scent. A VERY good scent, edged with something akin to misery and…weakness?
A shrill cry echoed in the mist. I ducked, looking for a sign of movement. The heavy fog and cold storm provided nothing but a blanket, smothering all sight and creating a humid atmosphere. The freezing air continued to whip at my face, relentless and powerful. Our boat, stuck in the boggy water. Again a cry called. Somewhere out there was someone, or something.
It was a beautiful night. It was perfect for a walk. As I strolled further into the park a figure approached me. It was as dark as pitch so I couldn’t make out who it was. It was late; you wouldn’t usually see anyone at this time. My heart was beating faster and faster. The strange thing was I wasn’t frightened; it was just my heart beating rapidly. As the masculine figure approached, I began to walk slower. That was when I heard the voice.
The street lights outside flickered with age, popping and gently fizzing with every stream of electricity that ran through the bulb. Sat inside of the laundromat and watching the flickering lights, I was awaiting the wash cycle’s end. Clothes that were dirtied from last night were being rehabilitated by vicious lashes of water and soap. It was the holy cleansing we all deserved. The shirts, pants and socks all pushed up against the restricting glass of the washing machine’s door, fighting for freedom while I just sat there, aware of the cruelty and the drowning but yawning my cares away. The inside of the laundromat was cast in a harsh cyan light that pained the eyes at such late times as these. It was around 9 p.m., and the only people present included myself and a
I awake to lukewarm water dripping down my forehead from a damp towel. I feel a thick liquid against my back. I scan the area, Unfamiliar. I find myself lying in a cot in a filthy room. The sight room itself was depressing, not that it was in extremely bad conditions but it was all…brown, the kind of brown that makes you feel depressed. It reeked of fish and motor oil, one of the queerest combinations of scents I have encountered. My ears start to pick up the deep monotones of a man speaking in other room. In my drowsy state I couldn’t make out exactly what he said but I did manage to g...
We all remember these grey gloomy days filled with a feeling of despair that saddens the heart from top to bottom. Even though, there may be joy in one’s heart, the atmosphere turns the soul cold and inert. Autumn is the nest of this particular type of days despite its hidden beauty. The sun seems foreign, and the nights are darker than usual enveloped by a thrill that generates chills to travel through the spine leaving you with a feeling of insecurity. Nevertheless, the thinnest of light will always shine through the deepest darkness; in fact, darkness amplifies the beauty and intensity of a sparkle. There I found myself trapped within the four walls of my house, all alone, surrounded by the viscosity of this type of day. I could hear some horrifying voices going through my mind led by unappealing suicidal thought. Boredom had me encaged, completely at its mercy. I needed to go far away, and escape from this morbid house which was wearing me down to the grave. Hope was purely what I was seeking in the middle of the city. Outside, the air was heavy. No beautifully rounded clouds, nor sunrays where available to be admired through the thick grey coat formed by the mist embedded in the streets. Though, I felt quite relieved to notice that I was not alone to feel that emptiness inside myself as I was trying to engage merchant who shown similar “symptoms” of my condition. The atmosphere definitely had a contagious effect spreading through the hearts of every pedestrian that day. Very quickly, what seemed to be comforting me at first, turned out to be deepening me in solitude. In the city park, walking ahead of me, I saw a little boy who had long hair attached with a black bandana.
Then all of a sudden, he began to choke, and blood dribbled from his mouth and got on my jacket. "What the hell?!" I yelled. I grabbed his shoulders and stared, astonished, at his face, as he silently pleaded for help. I couldn't handle looking at him anymore and I was frozen in shock, so I let him fall to the ground.
It was a dreadful afternoon, big droplets of rain fell directly on my face and clothes. I tasted the droplets that mixed with my tears, the tears I cried after the incident. The pain in my foot was excruciating. It caused me to make a big decision of whether I should visit you or not. I decided I would. I limped towards my bright, blue car where my bony, body collapsed onto the seat. I started the engine up but at the same time being cautious of my bleeding foot. I then drove to the destination where I was bound to meet you. I was bound to meet you after three years of counselling from my last appearance with you. I guess all I can remember is the scarring....
With a slow dawn I remembered. Had I slipped or had he hit me with something? My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I relived the figure advancing towards me. It was dark. The street light that shone from behind the man in the faceless thickset man in the grey hoody ensured anonymity. Now he was coming. How long had I been here? My head ached as I struggled to assess my surroundings.
I looked up at the black sky. I hadn't intended to be out this late. The sun had set, and the empty road ahead had no streetlights. I knew I was in for a dark journey home. I had decided that by traveling through the forest would be the quickest way home. Minutes passed, yet it seemed like hours and days. The farther I traveled into the forest, the darker it seemed to get. I was very had to even take a breath due to the stifling air. The only sound familiar to me was the quickening beat of my own heart, which felt as though it was about to come through my chest. I began to whistled to take my mind off the eerie noises I was hearing. In this kind of darkness I was in, it was hard for me to believe that I could be seeing these long finger shaped shadows that stretched out to me. I had this gut feeling as though something was following me, but I assured myself that I was the only one in the forest. At least I had hoped that I was.