Daembus Path
Madison enjoys writing, cooking pasta, and long walks on the beach. She plays a variety of sports and likes to draw a variety of things.
I remember walking down this pathway every day, to and from school. The soft, tickling breeze moved the branches and leaves in a graceful motion. Snow would dance down the air to land on the white, frozen ground. A strong scent of pine was always in the air, engulfing my senses and calming my mind of racing thoughts as I made the long trek.
The walkway was a peaceful journey, something I looked forward to every day as I wondered what animals would cross my path.
One time, I saw a family of rabbits travelling along, a group of galloping deer following close behind.
Whenever I was feeling anxious or angry, I would just visit the thin path and walk back and forth, for
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The sticky liquid drips down your skin, free-falling to then mix with the dirt and snow to create a strange colour, almost like a dark maroon.
The chilling breeze freezes your sweat as you run, causing your body to ache as you move faster. Your mind keeps you warm enough, though; since it is constantly placing paranoia in your head, making your heart race and blood boil. It makes you fear everything: passing trees, rocks on the ground, and every turn you take.
You run to find no end. The swirl of overgrown paths and uprooted trees makes the path relate more to an obstacle course bred with a maze than a simple shortcut through the forest.
Creatures are no longer sought after, as they include enormous beasts with teeth long and strong enough to sink straight through your arm. Owls mock your screams as the wind laughs at your hardships. The continuous whistle makes your ears ring and drives you to the brink of insanity, the sound making the idea of scraping your own skin appear
The new American hero (Just a quick look) Can you see the handsome young man sitting by my side, driving through the forest, behind the wheel of his decadent truck? Yes. I would trust him with my life (sip of vodka).
In the work, “A Worn Path, “Welty has developed a short story that uses characterization, symbolism, imagery, and conflict in a hero’s journey. Phoenix says “Thorn bushes and barbed-wire fences, log bridges and hills are major barriers for her.” (Welty, Edora 2/5) As Phoenix pursues this heroic challenge she acknowledges the temptation and fear built in her crossing a deep forest in the health condition she is found in. Welty gives the character the willingness having an ambition to conquer her journey. Upon many other Phoenix Jackson was well aware of what she was approaching making her build fear.
Pennhurst Asylum By: sarah hill The air stands still as you walk around the decaying buildings. The feeling of something watching you is heavily present in your thoughts. An oder, a damp, musty, moldy odor, fills your nose as you try to peek inside and see what 's in these decrepit buildings.
Because “A Worn Path” is set during Christmas, critics associate it with a religious pilgrimage. (American Writer) “She went on, parting her way from side to side.” (Welty) “This is similar to Moses parting the red sea.” (Isaacs)
Marin Elizabeth Pomeroy. The name my parents finally chose after having a nameless baby for weeks. Marin Elizabeth Pomeroy. The Marin came from Mariana which came from my great Italian grandmother on my Mom’s side.
In some degree, also, they diverted my mind from the thoughts over which it had brooded for the last month. I retired to rest at night; my slumbers, as it were, waited on and ministered to by the assemblance of grand shapes which I had contemplated during the day. They congregated round me; the unstained snowy mountain-top, the glittering pinnacle, the pine woods, and ragged bare ravine; the eagle, soaring amidst the clouds--they all gathered round me, and bade me be at peace.”... (page 109-110)... I remembered the effect that the view of the tremendous and ever-moving glacier had produced upon my mind when I first saw it. It had then filled me with a sublime ecstasy that gave wings to the soul, and allowed it to soar from the obscure world to light and joy.
SETTING One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest takes place in Oregon during the late 1950’s or early 1960’s in a mental hospital. We know this because the memory of World War II is fresh in Bromden’s and McMurphy’s minds. The environment is very grey, dull, confining, and machine-like. There is very little warmth before McMurphy’s arrival.
THE BIG GAME Ally jumped out bed, excited for her big soccer game. She got dressed for school,ate breakfast,and headed for the bus stop. When she got on the bus. Ally met up with her friend Zoe (who is also on Ally’s soccer team).
Just as a road trip often entails encountering diverse landscapes and people, the PCT exposes Strayed to a wide array of challenges and encounters. Through her physical and emotional journey along the trail, Strayed navigates her own inner terrain, confronting her past traumas, and finding healing and redemption. The trail becomes a symbol of self-exploration, providing a sense of direction and purpose in her life.
The two paths signifies that the life of the traveler
‘Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening,’ ‘Birches,’ and ‘Mowing’” (Rukhaya). The woods can also dually represent self-reliance and nonconformity. By acknowledging his choice in the woods alone, the traveler shows that he is willing to “oppose social norms” (Rukhaya) and rely on his own instinct to come to a decision. As an extended metaphor for choice, it makes sense that the roads represent the journey of life and decision. There are two roads, two choices, and two representations of decision.
Small, stagnant puddles, on the uneven planks of timber wood reflected the dark, brooding sky above - rarely disturbed by the callous slices of moonlight seeping through the clouds, creating a specular reflection through a ripple in the languid water. Surrounding the lake, lay a rigid, pine forest, which stretched far past the mountainous boundaries - rising high, around the solitary lake. A death-like mist pervaded through the trees enveloping them in a gelid, cutting fog. A silent, lonely willow shivered as the still, biting air engulfed its aged branches in an icy cage and suffocated its stiffened lungs, causing each freezing breath to drag. Crusted leaves stacked one on top of the other as
Although change can be challenging, there are ways to achieve many things similarly through different paths in life. Exploring brings happiness to those individuals who have the patience and individuality to lead a pathway. In the poem, “The Road Not Taken” written by Robert Frost, it introduces a traveler who waits to proceed with a road that will soon make a difference towards his future. Not only does he have patience, the narrator provides detail on the way each road looks along the way. The idea of this poem was to provide examples of what life would become if a person decides to make a change in life through imagery, symbolism, and personification.
The cool, upland air, flooding through the everlasting branches of the lively tree, as it casts a vague shadow onto the grasses ' fine green. Fresh sunlight penetrates through the branches of the tree, illuminating perfect spheres of water upon its green wands. My numb and almost transparent feet are blanketed by the sweetness of the scene, as the sunlight paints my lips red, my hair ebony, and my eyes honey-like. The noon sunlight acts as a HD camera, telling no lies, in the world in which shadows of truth are the harshest, revealing every flaw in the sight, like a toddler carrying his very first camera, taking pictures of whatever he sees. My head looks down at the sight of my cold and lifeless feet, before making its way up to the reaching arms of an infatuating tree, glowing brightly virescent at the edges of the trunk, inviting a soothing, tingling sensation to my soul.
As winter struck the leaves started to turn pale and colorless, the trees were being crushed by the weight of the snow. With each step I took the ground starting sucking me in, as if it were quicksand. My body felt weak, my arms and legs couldn’t shiver anymore, I was begging for death. The eyes of the mountain stared at me with the look of mercy. I fell to the ground wondering if the knowledge I retained was worth the agonizing journey ahead of me.