On this particular, enchanting day of English class, we were allowed to write about whatever we wanted. I used a variety of tactics, including personification and imagery. In fact, I like it so much that I ended up using it as a section of my descriptive essay. (10-10-07)
Sometimes when I am in one of those nostalgic, wistful moods or one of those “I-just-need-to-think” moods, I enjoy sitting on my front porch. At times like these, the only company I prefer is the whooshing and whistling sprays and crashes of the Atlantic, along with the steady chime of the crickets and whatever other creepy-crawlies may be lurking. An occasional bike rider might wizz by and a spontaneous cry of gossip from a canine can sometimes be heard. It must be something in the magnitude of the ocean that makes me feel so small, and yet my life so significant. The pinks and purples saunter on the horizon and play blissfully with the crests on the waves. The soft sounds of dusk soon become the creepy noises of night, and at this time I must return to the comforts of an illuminated house.
