“The mammoth vanished overnight in May. The Viking Ship has run aground. The graffiti-covered T. rex has been lying on its side for years, its puny arms aloft. Swan-shaped gondolas lie scattered in the undergrowth, the occasional head poking above the weeds. The Old England village’s mock-Tudor buildings are charred from a fire in the summer, and the Wild West Village is merely a pile of rubble. Walking around Berlin’s Spreepark, which has been abandoned since 2001, is like a stroll through a post-apocalyptic future. Time is frozen. Barely anything moves. Sometimes a family of raccoons who have found a home underneath the old Ghost Train tunnel rustle in the undergrowth. On the other side of the river outside the park, longboats filled with Polish coal dock silently by the power station. Only the Ferris wheel still has a certain stately grace. When the wind catches in its rusty spokes, it valiantly grinds back into action with a screech. People who have visited Spreepark at night insist it sounds more like a groan, as if the place is still having nightmares about the drama of its demise.” …show more content…
East berlin. The site must stay as an amusement park; my research project during stage 4 was about parametric. I would like to relate the urbanization, the history, the water and the technology of a new parametric amusement park. The abandon amusement portrays a lot of potential to make an impact to the spree and to the growth of culture and
The Book “Amusing The Million”, written by John F. Kasson describes how the amusement parks in Coney Island changed the attitude towards new cultures in the United States. Kasson talks about the era of famous amusement parks which began in 1895 before the first world war. These amusement parks were an effort to bring together the different cultures seen in the urban cities. Coney Island was a cultural accommodation for all the people who desired adventure and excitement.
“Between 1934 and 1943, about 3 million people visited a Canadian tourist attraction called Quintland, in the middle of nowhere. They made great journeys to get there, on poor roads, through a landscape of forest, swamp and wilderness, to a point near the village of Corbeil, in Northern Ontario. On arrival: a dusty, frenzied knot of cars and commerce - bumper stickers, "fertility stones", and refreshments. And, to one side, a low modern building with a garden and a high fence - and a public spectacle that today seems uprooted from another century, from fiction. Along the edge of the garden was a raised corridor whose windows were covered by a fine gauze - like a bird hide.
It was a beautiful day for the beautiful game of baseball to be played in the friendly confines of Wrigley Field, Chicago: breezy, sunny, but not a scorching hot, sweat-bead kind of day. Merely six miles south of Wrigley Field, we boarded the CTA purple line el train, along with clusters and clusters of Chicago Cubs fans also getting on each and every rail car from who knows where. But, let me tell you, I was in awe; I have never been with so many true fans who knew, not only baseball, but knew the Cubs! “Who’s ready for the Cubs to crush the Astros!”
The visual descriptions paint a picture of the unsettling scene within the reader’s mind. The depiction of the skeletons scattered on the slopes reveal how humans end up the same way in the
James burst out of the wooden screen door of his farmhouse armed with a double-barreled shotgun, his black finger ready on the triggers and a primordial holler, “You son of a bitches! What have you done to my barn?” From the front porch of the farmhouse and across a small open plain of grass made damp by midnight dew, a barn cobbled together from warped boards and pieces of timber, and just big enough to store a cramped allotment of hay, field tools, a broken-down tractor, and a cantankerous panicking mule, stood alight. Flames screamed violently into the blackness of night, as though they were challenging the brightness of the stars. Trees that hung over the barn, and provided protection from the summer sun’s relentless rays, and reminded James of his wedding alter, now curled and cracked from the undeniable blaze.
In his 1995 essay “The Trouble with Wilderness,” William Cronon declares that “the time has come to rethink wilderness” (69). From the practice of agriculture to masculine frontier fantasies, Cronon argues that Americans have historically defined wilderness as an “island,” separate from their polluted urban industrial homes (69). He traces the idea of wilderness throughout American history, asserting that the idea of untouched, pristine wilderness is a harmful fantasy. By idealizing wilderness from a distance, he argues that people justify the destruction of less sublime landscapes and aggravate environmental conflict.
This is an argumentative essay which stipulates that Sarah Burn’s documentary and book The Central Park Five is persuasive due to the use of Aristotle’s four characteristics of peroration. The essay is strong surrounding the concept that the four characteristics of peroration are rhetorically effective and enhance the persuasiveness of Burn’s argument. However, the essay is week in relation to its counterargument. The counterargument, while seemingly legitimate, could certainly be developed. Potentially, if the author was to return to this essay he would reform the counterargument to more accurately counter the main argument of the essay.
In describing the land as extensively beautiful and “out there”, Truman Capote is setting an environment of an isolated small town, where not much ever happens. This sets a contradictory theme for the rest of the book, as a small community of neighbors and friends turn on each other after a series of murders take place. In describing the town of Holcomb, Kansas, Capote uses strong imagery to set the tone for the small town as “calm before the storm.” Furthermore, Capote compares the unique grain fields to that of ancient Greek temples, indicating that the story contained in this novel has a larger significance as an inside look of timeless human themes such as murder and hatred and how these have existed for all of humanity.
The world of Rot & Ruin is set about fifteen years after a zombie apocalypse. Benny Imura is a fifteen-year-old boy who lives with his older half-brother Tom. They share the same Japanese American father who remarried Benny’s mother while Tom was barely twenty. On First Night, the night when the world awoke to a zombie attack, Benny’s mother had handed him to Tom and told him to run. Although Benny was only eighteen months old at the time, it left a memory that burned deep within him and caused an emotional rift between him and his brother that grew wider with each passing year.
In the excerpt the mooallem explains a northern military fort that was known as “the polar bear capital of the world”. with its newfound title came tourists. And with the uprising in tourism comes with the rise in destruction. The author makes a very strong and and almost emotional connection not only to himself but the the polar bears
I looked out from the passenger side window as we pulled into our parking spot. The trees were beginning to go bare in the frigid October weather, and the ground was covered in their dry, crispy leaves. The four of us were going on a haunted hayride tonight, a popular past-time for season. We clambered out of the car and left our bags behind. It had rained the day before, and it made the ground beneath us soft with mud and trampled leaves.
As I see Fog coming over the mountains, I know it’s not good. Is he looking for something or is he hiding something? The taste of the dampness is making me feel like there is something in me. As I’m listing for anything a sound or ANYTHING I don’t hear a single whisper, I scream, my fingers are getting more and agiler. As I am flowing, the smell of Fog gets me so riled up I just want to rip myself in half.
I had a horrible stomachache, and my head was spinning at what was what, and I felt weak, weak as if I had no bones in my body at all. Although I didn’t know what to do, there was one alternative left to me since I had a brain to think. So I thought while I was breathing heavily, twisting and turning and screaming, and I just decided to put my head down and try to let the rocking created by the giant and the big, black bear soothe me, but that was the impossibility of the century because to think and to try to relax on a roller coaster let me tell you now, it’s impossible! As soon as we passed through another couple of twists and turns, I would have to be on this horrible roller coaster my whole life.
Everybody is a kid at heart. Well, getting occupied with all our to dos and responsibilities sometimes make us really look for that thrill and excitement which is all about sojourns, breaking free and simply having fun, just like what we used to do as a child. That’s why I love theme parks! It’s a place for thrills, exhilaration and amusement, where hyper-energy and creativity thrive and joy-rides are but typical. Do you know that theme parks started from the recreational idea of traditional parks?
There was no chattering or chirping of birds; no growling of bears and no chuckling of contented otters; instead, the clearing lay desolate and still, as though it never wished to be turned into day. The only occupants were rodents and spiders who had set their home in the dank, forgotten shack. From its base, dead, brown grass reached out, all the way to the edge of the tree-line, unable to survive in the perished, infertile soil that made up the foundations of the house. Bird houses and feeders swung still from the once growing apple trees, in the back garden, consigned to a life of