PreWrite+1

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Javon Moore Mrs. Ackerman Honors American Lit. 31st of January, 2009 Pre-Write #1 Experiencing beauty. Experiencing life. The feeling that I have when I am here. The vast meadows around me stretching on to eternity from all directions. The mix of colors in the sky lying across the mountain range in the distance only imaginable in a painting. A bee buzzes on a wheat stock. I reach down, and it crawls along my fingertips. I feel. The buzz of its wings and the soft brush of its fur. Life is amazing. I let it flutter from my hand as I spread my arms up to the sky and take a rich whiff of the fresh field air. As the air from the cool breeze rushes through your nose and mouth it is a cleansing, a purification, a strainer that strains through all the negative experiences that dwell in your past. I remember my childhood when I am here. I remember all who love me. I hear the rush of the wind. It’s soft. It’s sweet. It is a beautiful sound that can’t be described with words, you just need to listen. The air around me is filled with a rich taste of happiness and perfection. It’s better than Grandma’s apple pie. As I stand there, alone, in the vast field and look over the rolling hills my mind goes splat. I forget everything as I lose myself in the nature. The colors, the smells, the taste, the everything of nature. Singing and screaming in the meadows overlooking the mountains has a lot to do with sounding your barbaric yawp, which has a lot to do with expressing yourself to the fullest. When I am here I sing because no one can judge me. I scream because nobody can here me. I laugh at my jokes because nobody will care. I run because nobody can catch me. I do a cartwheel because nobody is watching me. I express myself and all that I am. When I am here, I remember… Who I am and where I am from.