I’m so tired of pondering. It’s always the same every time. A vague question only returns me with a vague answer. No matter how much hypotheses I set out, it’s just impossible to prove them. “Hey, you.” A woman’s voice comes from nowhere. Rather husky and deep for a woman, but surely, composed and calm. From her voice, I can tell that she is older than me. Probably about twenty or some. “Where are you?” I ask and turn to search for a human figure. “This way.” I glance back and notice her standing behind me. I stare at her for a moment. She leans on one of her leg, and stares me back. I feel tingles down my spine as she continue to contemplate my face. As if she is trying to read my thoughts, the woman looks in to my eyes. She remains surprisingly blank. Her impenetrable eyes and inscrutable expression give little away. She looks stultified, but at the same time, intrigued. She looks like she’s on the brink of crying, but I also see the corner of her mouth slightly curled up. She’s too intricate for someone like me to understand. I struggle to break away from her gaze and hurriedly turn my line of sight to the mountain ranges. “So, what are you doing in a place like this?” I ask her, and shift my body back and forth uncomfortably. Here is an isolated smoking lounge on top of a rolling hill. But since I’m only seventeen, I don’t smoke. I don’t see any benefit in smoking, just like I don’t see any benefit in doing anything. I always come here whenever I feel exhausted and simply stand before the mountains, because I like the feel of this abandoned place on the fringe of the town. Because the altitude is high here, the air is also limpid. I can see the rugged mountains ranging north and south, and below the cliff is a diminutiv... ... middle of paper ... ...in?” The woman questions. The boy stops and thinks for a few seconds. “Nah, why should I, if it’s the same world anyway?” he replies. The woman laughs. ”That's what I was trying to tell you the other day." The boy grins, seeing the woman laugh. “Is this a Happy Ending then?” The boy says, jokingly. The woman throws him a sidelong glance. “Do you really think we would ever have happiness? Let along an ending?” She inquires. “Then, what should we name this?” The boy says. “Bad Progressing?” She suggests. “Haha. If I ever decide to keep a pet in the future, I’ll make sure to come and ask you for its name,” the boy giggles. She smiles. The sun sets down to light the other side of the world, and the moon now illuminates the world gently. The boy and the woman at the lounge were certainly laughing. What should we call this? Let’s just call this “happiness,” for now.
The speaker in “Five A.M.” looks to nature as a source of beauty during his early morning walk, and after clearing his mind and processing his thoughts along the journey, he begins his return home feeling as though he is ready to begin the “uphill curve” (ln. 14) in order to process his daily struggles. However, while the speaker in “Five Flights Up,” shares the same struggles as her fellow speaker, she does little to involve herself in nature other than to observe it from the safety of her place of residence. Although suffering as a result of her struggles, the speaker does little to want to help herself out of her situation, instead choosing to believe that she cannot hardly bare recovery or to lift the shroud of night that has fallen over her. Both speakers face a journey ahead of them whether it be “the uphill curve where a thicket spills with birds every spring” (ln. 14-15) or the five flights of stares ahead of them, yet it is in their attitude where these two individuals differ. Through the appreciation of his early morning surroundings, the speaker in “Five A.M.” finds solitude and self-fulfillment, whereas the speaker in “Five Flights Up” has still failed to realize her own role in that of her recovery from this dark time in her life and how nature can serve a beneficial role in relieving her of her
As I walk around observantly in desperate search of a person to interview, a young woman approaches me. She takes careful steps, noticeably anxious as she gets closer. Her head facing down while her young one pulls at her sleeve. Her hair is covered by a once bright blue, now dull blue scarf. Lifting her head, her eyes meet mine. Like her once bright blue scarf, her eyes are a piercing sapphire. Struggling to find the right words she begins pointing at my backpack.
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.
“Okay well if you are done I hope we never have to each other again.” Spidey said.
“I don’t get it. Why did you have to give me a pet name in the first place? What’s the point?”
The drive to cross the Kentucky border had taken hours and hours of strenuous patience to finally arrive in another state. The view was by far country like as hints of cow manure could be smelled far from a distance. We drive through small towns, half the size of our hometown of Glen Ellyn had been the biggest town we've seen if not smaller. The scenery had overwhelmed us, as lumps of Earth from a great distance turned to perfectly molded hills, but as we got closer and closer to our destination the hills no longer were hills anymore, instead the hills had transformed to massive mountains of various sizes. These mountains surrounded our every view as if we had sunken into a great big deep hole of green pastures. Our path of direction was seen, as the trails of our road that had followed for numerous hours ended up winding up the mountainous mountains in a corkscrew dizzy-like matter.
As the two men hiked, they came upon many rugged trails and hills that were difficult to overcome, however they did it together and kept moving on. The view from the trail was beautiful with many places to stop and admire the view, but they couldn’t seem to get above the canopy of the trees to truly take in the whole view. The man that strove to see the beautiful scenery from an unobstructed viewpoint was trying in every way to get above what was around him to see the true beauty of the mountains.
Jim is an innocent young man, living on the coast of Queensland. In this peaceful town, everybody is happy and at peace with themselves and with nature. The people enjoy the simple pleasures of life - nature, birds, and friendly neighbourly conversations. Their days are filled with peaceful walks in the bush, bird watching and fishing. Jim and his friends especially enjoy the serenity of the sanctuary and the wonders of nature that it holds.
"They did well." She says when he stops a few steps behind her, allowing her some space. "Though I wish he were not so serious, it looks so unlike him."
“Come on!”, my sister called. Her voice carried over with the wind. I refused to walk over,and I stood straight, up, as though it would convey
Being invited to a friend’s house the other day, I began to get excited about the journey through the woods to their cabin. The cabin, nestled back in the woods overlooking a pond, is something that you would dream about. There is a winding trail that takes you back in the woods were their cabin sits. The cabin sits on top of a mountain raised up above everything, as if it was sitting on the clouds.
The man talking to the watcher walked off into the bush, out of sight. With one man still sleeping, the watcher sat, holding his rifle, staring into the horizon, where the moon would soon rise.
I pulled into the driveway and staggered into the loud, large and mysterious place. I was surprised at how many people were there. It could have been about twenty or so. I would not know because I am not highly educated. My education actually collapsed after being involved with you. I put all my attention and focus towards you. I can’t count the amount of times I missed class or skipped school. Whilst thinking of this, a young girl came strolling over. She had dark, long hair, brown eyes and a slim figure nearly identical to my own appearance. She wore a white garment matched with pure, silk shoes. Her glamour attracted people from all directions. She looked about twenty five years old.
I awoke to the sun piercing through the screen of my tent while stretching my arms out wide to nudge my friend Alicia to wake up. “Finally!” I said to Alicia, the countdown is over. As I unzip the screen door and we climb out of our tent, I’m embraced with the aroma of campfire burritos that Alicia’s mom Nancy was preparing for us on her humungous skillet. While we wait for our breakfast to be finished, me and Alicia, as we do every morning, head to the front convenient store for our morning french vanilla cappuccino. On our walk back to the campsite we always take a short stroll along the lake shore to admire the incandescent sun as it shines over the gleaming dark blue water. This has become a tradition that we do every
Fortunately, I wake every morning to the most beautiful sun lit house. I sit on my porch sipping coffee, while I drink in an atmosphere that steals my breath away. Rolling hills lay before me that undulate until they crash into golden purple mountains. Oh how they are covered in spectacular fauna, ever blooming foliage, and trees that are heavy with pungent fruit. Green it is always so green here at my house. Here where the air lays heavy and cool on my skin as does the striking rays of the sun upon my cheeks. I know in my soul why I choose to be here every day. Pocketed in all the nooks and crannies of these valleys and hills are stately homes, rich with architecture resplendent. Diversity is the palate here; ...