Kayla Curtis Forget my face. I belong in London. Forget my name and take this as goodbye. No, I will not put a fight, my will for living has died. I’ve been living a lie.
I am a lie. I’m trite and cheap. I have five dollars and a couple coins with me. If I continue living a lie, then I might as well be paralyzed. Lies are truths never born. So when I board the plane take it as my rebirth.
A twelve hour flight in the womb over lonely seas and if by chance this plane was to go down I’d curl up in my polyester seat and turn as white as a premature baby. But if luck goes my way I’ll be delivered safely into England as healthy as a new born baby boy. The airport’s bustling and my feet are moving faster than I’m thinking. Through heavy metal doors I step into the streets slick with rain. As I smell the cool air, my lungs transpire London. With each sense I’m reborn and anxious for what comes next.
I’m as healthy as I’ve ever been, I’m alive as Las Vegas night-life and it’s only ten AM. Alone I walk down a road with green scenery. A sky so plain and trees so green. Arriving at the house I took for rent I’ve realized I’ll never miss my bed. Too many nights it’s caught my tears and it’s caving in from memories of you and me. A new bed will provide new comfort in a new city I’d like to call my home.
Out in town I’m not a, I’m like a local and I’m more light hearted than I’ve ever felt. It’s been six months and I’ve seen Big Ben and I sat upon the London Eye where I met this beautiful boy. He was gentle as he told me his name and he took a seat next to me. On our 4 th time revolving over the sea he’d asked me out for coffee. This boy was clever. As we reached our 3 rd cup of coffee we sat and learned about each other.
The Essay on Down And Out In Paris And London
Down And Out In Paris And London Summary Down and Out in Paris and London is a documentary of the life of lower class people in Paris and London. Orwell shows the social conditions of the so-called plongeurs (they are cheap and unqualified workers in restaurants, hotels etc.) in Paris, and of the tramps in London. By joining these people, and living amongst them, Orwell generates a very realistic ...
As time when on each coffee kept us awake and we sat until the early morning talking about English history. The Virgin Queen was recognized and pilgrimage was condoned. We went through all of Shakespeare’s plays and recited our favorite lines. As we were discussing the tragedies of Macbeth he smiled and I almost forgot how lost I felt. We recited our favorite lines and talked about the plot in quite depth. And as we went on this brilliant boy said ‘From Spenser to Shakespeare every sonnet is the same.
Love was put in our veins to keep us alive, but kills us just the same.’ We discussed how such a paradox should often be thought through. Which conclusion is best? Which part of the contradiction holds more depth? As we talked about how much love was a waste and all of our heartbreak I realized that I was falling for him faster than anyone I’ve ever met. I celebrated my with him. He had intricate eyes and a pale face. His smile made me hope for something better than what I was given. I knew it was around then I got what I wanted all along.
Hyperbole’s in early English poems aren’t hard to find, and I realized I had said one when I thought to myself ‘This boy is the best I’ve met in my lifetime, his eyes more mysterious than a New Mexico night sky.’ Pastoral poems are what come to mind when I imagine us together in a room full of white. Laying in the middle of an English meadow full of davies with a blue 9 pm summer sky. So as I continued to celebrate my I shed all of the past people I have been and feel brand new and reinvented. I feel like my skin was painted by Da Vinci, and as powerful as Queen Elizabeth. I love this city and I love Westminster Abbey. Something in the way I felt in the Poet’s Corner made me feel at ease and best of all that beautiful British boy was with me.
The Term Paper on Changeling Boy Love Play Magic
Shakespeare presents the two types of love showing that there can be a difference in love and how types of love can affect the characters in different ways. The two types of love, requited love and unrequited love are shown through the interaction between characters. The play makes us believe even requited love can change. Act 1 Scene 1 introduces the first love triangle in the play, which also ...
With his accent so deep he asked me if I’d like to come home with him. The cafe was closed and so we walked up the London streets, nothing ever seemed so brand new to me. It wasn’t late it was only half past seven and he took my hand as he guided me in. This boy was so unbelievable, the most literate and deep of all the boys I’ve met. He had eyes as deep as English meadows with eyes that electrified the night sky. He was rather pale and thin.
He reached about six feet and walked with eloquence. His face was soft and his lips were full. His dark messy hair was soft and cut at an angle. It framed his pale face and kept his smile on display.
This boy was divine and and best of all he liked me. His voice was strong but not as deep and his kiss was warm and spoke of a million heartbreaks. The door to his apartment was open and he lead me up to the roof. It was a brisk, cool night and at the top of the staircase we were on top of the most unbelievable city. He held me close and kept me from getting too chilly and all the while the lights and the sea were glistening. The beautiful city looked so intricate and yet I’ve felt more simple than I’ve ever been.
What an amazing sight for one’s eyes to behold. I came here knowing nothing and no one and I was more lonely at home. It’s been a year now and I’ve settled in quite well and now I’m at my kitchen table writing letters to send back to the states. They explain the weather and the landmarks. They explain the history I’ve learned and the boy I’ve met and the friends I’ve made. It explains the beauty and how I’m never returning.
So as I scribble with my black pen I write about how I hope for our paths to cross again. My life is new and fresh and rebound. I’m living in my utopia with my feet on the ground. So as I come to the end of each letter I write down the receiving address and then I put down the sender: ‘From London, England with love.’.
