#descriptive paragraph

[aadhube]

A paragraph I'm actually proud of writing out

[yulia1227-blog]

My bestfriend Rahma

I have a friend, her name is Rahma. She is beautiful. She has round big eyes, she has pointed nose and she is fairly tall. She likes eat everything delicious but she is never gain weight. It reminds me when she was stole my food when we go out for dinner, but ofcourse i can't mad at her at all. She is humorist person. She can break any situation and change it into laugh. She is a little idiot and behave like a child but the fact she is really smart and always get top ranks in the school. Yeah, that was my friend, eventhough she is annoying and little idiot she still my best friend.

[homeoflearning1]

Types of Paragraphs

What is a Paragraph? A paragraph is a short collection of well-organized sentences which revolve around a single theme and is coherent. In this article, you will find Types of Paragraphs with Examples. Types of Paragraphs Descriptive ParagraphNarrative Paragraph Expository Paragraph Persuasive Paragraph How to Write a Paragraph? – Read here Types of Paragraphs #1 Descriptive Paragraph: As…

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[somethingholden-blog]

Not a regular post?!

Here's a story I wrote for English class:

Staying in Vancouver was not a very enjoyable experience; My family had been walking through the city for less than an hour, yet our feet were still cramping. Perhaps it was from the fast and hardly gradual transition of sitting on a hot, stuffy bus for over two hours to walking around with several pounds of baggage weighing us down. We stepped into the hotel my mom had booked our room in and were immediately relieved with the rush of cool air. After a nausea-inducing elevator ride, we saw the room; the room looked inviting, and after all of my family flopped down on the two soft beds, it certainly felt inviting. The beds were, soft, reasonably large, and had the softed and lushest pillows I had ever felt. The room was flooded with the screeches of tires and rumbles of engines from the street right outside our window, but the noises were immediately muffled after the open window was shut. I sat down on the window seat where I would be sleeping, leaned my head against the now shut window, and examined the surface of the seat. The vibrant, orange planks flashed at every movement of my head, reflecting the blinding light of the early spring sun. By nightfall, the dull noises of the surprisingly large television filled the softly lit room. Everyone was extremely comfortable, and quite happy; except me. Even with layers upon layers of blankets and sheets on the window seat to add some cushioning, I still felt as if I was sleeping on the rock hard concrete right just a few meters from the window. The musty taste of aspertame from the lukewarm bottle of soda we had bought was replaced with the cold, burning taste of the spearmint toothpaste I had brought with me. The pillows I had thought of as soft and lush mere hours ago were now feeling rather lumpy and stiff. A pathetic excuse for a blanket that hardly covered me felt like sandpaper, rough enough to scratch off an entire layer of my skin. The calm silence of the night was occasionally broken by the ear-splitting roar of a car engine, making it just far enough to go through the curtains right beside me, right into my ears. Not only did I hate the curtains for allowing the sound to pass through them, but they rubbed against my arm unpleasantly, and felt like a giant Canadian five dollar bill. A third of my body had been hanging right off the edge of my tiny bed until I had pushed several chairs to the side of the seat to stop me from slipping off the edge in my sleep. Several times I went through the cycle of feeling like the air surrounding me was sweltering hot, feel the refreshing breeze of throwing off my blanket, then immediately after suffer from full body frostbite. Finally when morning hit, I was extremely grateful to have cramped feet, be weighed down by several pounds of baggage, sit in a hot, stuffy bus for over two hours, and leave the hotel that had once seemed quite inviting.

[demetriolovoto-blog1]

Sitting in the hard metal of the back of the pickup truck, my hair whipped wildly in the wind. I stare at the incredibly bright little dots, starkly contrasting with the pitch black night sky. The silhouette of trees blocked the sight for a moment and the stars appeared again. I connected each dot to the next, pictures forming slowly. No camera would be able to capture this image as it is. I breathed in the cold air, shivering slightly, pulling the sleeves of my flannel down to cover my hands. Music blasting in my ear, I thought about the beautiful simplicity of the moment. And I thought, we fail to appreciate the little things around us, focusing and stressing about the whole bigger picture, that we fail to notice that comfort is in the smallest things.

[mylife-ourthoughts]

Impatiently waiting for my English assignment to be graded XD I just wanna know if I did a good job!!

[fixatedfantasies]

Monstrous were the lights that hung suspended overhead - millions of captivating clusters illuminating the world stage. Below were those shadowed in bleak darkness, living prosaic lives while ambivalent to that of which was above. Their very being, on a universal scale, was a mere particle of stardust. Even the adventurous, who wandered great distances to witness the unfathomable spectacle, were laconic standing before the seemingly alive mirror of spirits long gone as they danced a sacred and intimate dance across their boundless cage of time. In the end, it was the blissful and tender silence that followed this enchanted show - curing those stricken with the unquenched thirst for wanderlust.

[fixatedfantasies]

There is a place where an empty house sits, collecting dust as the bare walls lined with uncovered windows reflect back like mirrors the moments that could have been. Laughter of children meant to be running down the halls on the second level echo throughout the void rooms left nude to time as the sun peaks in like a silent angel with a stale breath of boundless desperation, caressing the bare surfaces washed by light too far distant.

The wooden floorboards creak softly with gravity weighing down upon the aging home that was meant to last many years with repairs every generation. Captivating blue skies hang overhead and kiss the rolling hills in the distance outside the window panes enclosing the rooms into their own world of silence. On the first level there lies nothing, yet everything, as a presence remains - Hope, the lost friend that comes to the door every so often, desiring entrance.