My goals while writing this was to write something clean and to make it crisp and grasping. I feel for the first thing I did well was time management because I had almost everything done a full day ahead at least for each due date. I feel as well my ability to broaden the topic like nothing helped me write a good essay. I'd like to improve on describing because things such as describing, grammar is something to always improve one
My picture is a picture I carry everywhere. It’s a photo of me, my twin brother Aaron and my older brother Dessler. We at this time are hiking I am like 4, and so is Aaron. Dessler is about six. My twin brother and I are wearing red shirts. I honestly do not know which one is which in this picture. Until we were 6 every picture we look the exact same. My older brother has a white shirt on. Not plain, it has a picture on it consisting of other smaller pictures. We are on a trail at this moment. We were almost on the way back to the car as we take this picture. As we take this my older brother and one of us have our arms over each other’s shoulders. While Aaron and I lock elbows and 1 of us point at ourselves. All three of us have black basketball shorts on. We also all look extremely similar almost like triplets. As we take this there is a lot of shade in the background from trees. These trees make it a good spot for a picture with a fair balance of sunlight. The ground is a pavement. Gray and smooth so when we used to ride our bikes along this trail as a kid when we went hiking. I believe that we are a fair height and are extremely happy in the photo. Sadly I do not remember well as I was young. Finally, my brothers and I had fun this day and as a token to our friendship I carry this in my wallet.
Dubois- Good description of articles of clothes
Declan- Talk about trees
As we walk this trail we always begin walking by the creek. We continued down past the bridges to do our echos. As a kid making huge echos was fun. But as we finished our echos we saw a trail we never saw before. So we decided to walk down it. As we walked down it we soon realized we have no idea how to get back. As my brother panicked we tried to work our way back onto known ground. We were surrounded by so many plants and felt isolated into the forest. As kids we were afraid we’d become like the kids in lord of the flies. But after a while we saw a deer. Uncommon in philly even for a common hiking area sent us running like rabbits. We didn’t know that deers were not dangerous so the idea of one freaked us out. So we eventually ran into a place we knew. A commonly known rock that was known because of its unnecesary size. So we climbed the rock and found the trail we needed so we wouldn’t be lost anymore. So that day we learned things such as deers are scared of us and that when you are lost don’t panic and manage your surroundings.
As a kid I would go to camp every year. It was an overnight wilderness camp and we every year played the best game ever. One that is very hard to play if you have no athletic skill, critical thinking and self awareness. Usually this made my team lose every single year(misunderstood the game). So this game is mission impossible. Like the movie you are given a task to find the pieces in 4 different parts of the camp. You have 60 minutes in the middle of the night to get as many as you can and to return to the base. So a few years ago we started and five minutes later many people screwed up on my team. They were afraid of all the trees and the surroundings. This was frustrating. So early in the match the people who search for you and if caught twice you lose we were caught because another team was too loud. So here is the relation we ended up after two objects getting lost. A few of our teammates were unaware of what to do and the surroundings scared them so we had to turn in ourselves so those kids would leave the group. After the third object we were almost found again. At this time we hid in bushes and I kicked a beehive. Stinging me a dozen times along with my teammates. So when we returned I had cuts and stings everywhere and by being handed every single year bad teams I lost every single time. But through the cuts and stings I had a lot of fun playing the best game ever.
Surroundings, cuts- Xavier
Kicked, Misunderstood- Zeshawn
Memory 3- I remember this game as if it was yesterday. The 2008 world series brought joy to all Philadelphians. Brad Lidge exits the bullpen to try and earn a save so the Phillies will win the world series. First up to bat is Evan Longoria 3B for tampa bay. After two pitches he gets to a 0-2 count, leading to a foul and an end result being a popout to Chase Utley leading the Phillies to their first out. We are a third of the way to being champs. Dioner Navarro comes up to bat. Lidge takes him to an early 0-2 count. Navarro anticipates and takes the ball to shallow right field for a single. Next the second basemen for Tampa Bay comes up to the plate. Ben Zobrist. After the 1-1 count the pinch runner steals second base putting a runner in scoring position for tampa bay. Zobrist on the 1-2 count lines it to right field making the phillies only one more out from being world champions. The next batter earlier in the matchup hit a homerun to center field. The first pitch results in a foul ball making an 0-1 count. The next pitch is a check swing by the batter. But the umps say that he went around the plate. The 0-2 count put the longest time between pitches for phillies fans. “The 0-2 pitch swing and a miss, struck em out the phillies are the 2008 world champions of baseball”.- Harry Kalas. At this moment my brothers and I dogpiled celebrating the win. One of the best nights ever, happening with the people in the artwork above my brothers.
by Luke Watson-Sharer
Nothing sings, talks, walks and sleeps. Nothing has the ability to persuade. Nothing has skills and concepts. Nothing has been here forever. Nothing tells us everything we know as nothing but everything as well. Nothing is our freedom as well as our dictator. Nothing is action; it is idleness. Nothing has power to give and take life.
Part 1: Action and Idleness
The sun, poised above the zinc roof, fried the wilting branches of mango and avocado trees. Both trees gently cried for rain. Together, roof and trees, sheltered an elderly, blind woman relaxing on the veranda. With each gentle push with her worn, calloused feet, she moved the rocking chair against the cement. It was another afternoon waiting for another evening.
She would wait for her great-grandchildren to walk the dusty path home from school. She would wait for rain to quench the dirt’s thirst. She would wait for the night’s news of the day’s events. She would wait for the sun to quickly disappear and for her bed to plead for her presence.
The elderly woman would spend the afternoon anticipating the wealth of family and food. Her movements were slight. Her gestures were nearly invisible. Her memories were wrapped into her lap blanket. She counted the tassel of thread, worn with her thumbs. Then, tapped her feet to a tune no one could hear. Nothing”,” but still air waiting for a splash of rain. The elderly blind woman did nothing while remembering and foreseeing everything.
Part 2: Idleness and Action
As they load the panga at the docks, they lose count. One, two, three, four…. the count fades with the thump of another load. Ah, nothing.
The driver signals. There’s room. Climb down. Steady. Feed bags piled on heads to fill the panga. Sit on top of feed bags of corn. Shift. Move the cobs to form a cushion.
They need to get on the panga. The sun is here but then there will be nothing. No light on the river. No full moon. Just the still, damp slap of the water on the river’s bed. Soon the boat will remain idle. Another day lost. Tomorrow to gain.
Where will they go? Anywhere. Nowhere. Escaping no food. Escaping threats of breathing. Forced travelers from all paths meander to the river. Dying for prosperity as blind as a bat sleeping in the sun.
The travelers walk the path, which leads to a boat. The boat, covered in rust brown as bark; or it is red? The bark of mahogany draped before the river. The bark of a mutt snug against the first woman apparently in her second trimester. Or, it nothing but a lump of air. A deep breath? Then, she exhales relief; next Inhales fear. Nothing to fear but caring for a child she will soon bare.
Behind her is a man missing an ear. Does he hear? The hole, instead of an ear, is formed from his head. It’s flat as a mid day horizon. His two eyes that peer at the boat piled with what could be nothing. As he bends, his white ripped shirt covers ribbs. His frame as long and thin as the first woman’s is short and round. They stand, lean and move toward the boat with nothing but their hope for a seat on cobs of corn. Nothing but full sacks.
More people move toward the boat. Just one more seat. Finally, the driver holds up his hand: STOP. He nods and then shakes his head. The boat is full. 20 pounds could cost a life. Ah, but 20 pounds are nothing!
The driver says in a low, hoarse tone: “The owner will kick everyone off if nobody follows.” Huh? Everyone is quick to throw something. A small, knit bag, a pair of holy socks or even a new blanket. With the toss of each item, the sky turn grey. The stillness turns to twists of wind. The clouds quickly fill with rain. Then, splat and splash.
With no dusk, the sun is gone and the driver becomes skeptical. Why chance the nothingness of night on a river? Why risk the sacks of corn? Why expose the travelers to a watery grave? The boat driver’s eyes suddenly fill with blood. His veins drained of hope. Hopelessness is nothingness.
Surprised, the rain subsides. The remaining raindrops play a game of tag with the dust along the river’s banks. They are the center of civilization. One hundred kilometers from nowhere. If only the boat could float and carry the woman in her second trimester, the long man needing a shirt, the old couple smug in their hugs along with the line of humanity clinging to the hope of surviving tonight. Nothing else left of hope.
The driver makes the call. His head tells him the river will be their guide. The river will coddle them with sweet waves and sounds of nothingness under a dark, moonless sky. He carefully reaches for the travelers, guiding them, assisting them, helping them sit between the cobs of corn. Then, out of nowhere, the boat becomes unbalanced. The long, lean man tips to the right. A streak of lightning brightens the sky.
The water splurges into the back of the boat as the lean man dives into the river’s waves. Head first. Feet last. Disappear into the nothingness of river. Everyone gasps. Who is next?
The rain is no longer tapping the river’s waves. It is churning in anger. The sacks of corn begin to sway. Next, the woman in her second trimester loses her grip. She rolls off the sack of corn and into the river’s waves. Her body bounces against the boat. She grabs the side pulling a sack, and then young child, into the waves.
Where is the moon? Where is the lightning? The sky has nothing to offer. Only the clouds give. They give rain and more rain. The only light is the corn.
The boat quietly melts into the river. The motor attempting to fight. The driver treads water. There are a few other bouncing heads. Will any one remember? Is it too much to forget? Is there nothing left?
The sun rose at 5 AM. Bright, round, and licking the gentle waves of the river. Cobs of corn were caught in a mango grove. Nothing left to reveal the graves of longing for everything. Receiving nothing. Their loss may seem like nothing in the midst of war but it was everything no one hoped for. Idling. Similar to those boys in the woods, knowing none of their locations, scared of what is to come and if they’d find a way back to the trail, waiting for a tomorrow. Waiting for nothing.