I couldn’t sit still the entire day. Today our teacher had booked a trip to our local library and we were all to apply for our very first library cards. After lunch, the bell rang and we bolted up in our…
Download file to see previous pages...
It was a pleasant fifteen minute walk. We joked the entire way and enjoyed the much awaited warm breeze swooshing though the trees. Finally the library came into view. It was a small, single level brick building, situated at the corner half covered by tall green trees. We stepped inside and were met by a smiling elderly lady. She escorted us to a corner in the children’s section and seated us at the small wooden and colorful benches designed for kids. Our teacher looked comical, hunched down on a purple stool, her knees bent at an odd angel because there wasn’t any room. The librarian proceeded to tell us about the general rules of etiquette of the library.
I tuned out and busied myself in observing the quaint and serene atmosphere. For some reason, the quietness of the library and the overwhelming feeling of being surrounded by so many books put me to awe. I didn’t know why but I loved everything about this ordinary little building. The softness of the carpet beneath my sneakers, the quiet rustling of the indoor plants, the soft and soothing overhead lights, and the smell of new and old books mingled together gave me a sense of calm and comfort. I was jolted by the sudden sound of everyone getting up and snapped out of my daydreaming. The librarian, along with our teacher, was ready to give us a brief tour of the library.
The building was basically divided into two sections, the adult and the kids. The checkout desk in the middle separated the two areas and was surrounded by a low shelf filled with bright blue encyclopedias. The librarian picked up a bunch of sheets from the desk and brought us back to where we were seated before. The time had at last come to fill out our individual applications. I felt strangely grownup as I carefully penciled in my name and phone number. We all handed in the applications and the librarian told us to look around because we could each take home two books of our own choosing at the end of the
...Download file to see next pagesRead More
Inspirations give people hope in living and even the courage to soldier on as if it was possible for others; it is also possible for anyone else. Hope and inspiration go hand in hand, as the latter is because of the former. In the present day, many individuals have proven that circumstances are not an excuse to failure and that to some extent disability does not inhibit ability.
Plutarch was steeped in classical learning and wrote on a legendary Roman general, while Bede, in addition to classical scholarship was a monk well versed in the Bible wrote on a Christian saint. An examination of the comapritive narrative skills reveals Plutrach to be far superior to Bede.
ops of condensation fell from the sky, made its way through the soft frozen material and into the earthy material beneath it to come into contact with the hard shell of the flower.
The flower was informed that the sunbeam would be strong enough to force entry at some point in
I remember clearly the weather forecast I had seen earlier that day; predictions had it that it was to rain that night the way trees shed their leaves in autumn.
It was a Saturday night and I had returned home early that day
A writer invariably connects his life-experiences through his characters. One will not be able to avoid this, howsoever intelligently one may try—and why should one try at all! Transplant the thought processes through the life-processes of the characters-- a good, believable and acceptable story by the readers emerges.
As former United Nations Secretary-General Kofi Annan once said, "We may have different religions, different languages, different colored skin, but we all belong to one human race." Indeed, one might ask: how important is diversity in our society and can it
To get over my feelings of loneliness, in the evenings, I used to go and sit on a bench at the public park near my home.
It was one such evening, as I was sitting on the very same bench, when a local boy of the same age group as mine, came and sat beside me.
My family had been saving and planning for a trip to this wonderful and distinct environment. My dad had notified me some two months ago that they would consider having me for the trip, a promise that never came to be.
It was on Saturday morning when my