It was a long long time since I wrote an aesthetic piece of essay.
Seems that nowadays taking photographs are becoming the preferred method of capturing memories instead of penmanship. To revive this ancient but romantic technique of chronicling nostalgic moments, I hereby proudly present to you:
The cold morning mist lingers in the air like the smell of my warm bed as I journeyed down Lygon Street on a lazy Sunday morning.
By and large the first block of the street was deserted, with early morning newspapers rustling in the breeze the predominant activity and the soft crisp crunching of brown maple as they passed under my red Nike the prevalent sound. Naked mannequins stared aimlessly into space from the insides of shop windows, as if longing for a ride in one of the lonely cars parked outside along the street.
As I passed another block of rustic Italian eateries and quaint shops, sights of life begin to sprout. There was this bald young man in blue overalls, his pale complexion perfectly juxaposed by his muscled build, furiously applying a fresh coat of whitewash to a tired looking facade.
Then there was also this cigarette smoking mustachioed Greek street sweeper with pincers in hand, fighting for pieces of forgotten sandwiches with an army of pigeons. A fierce intensity hallmarked his persona, as he concentrate every bit of his sinew towards winning this lopsided duel.
Besides the sandwiches, other evidences of last night's merriment loitered in the street. Assortments of green beer bottles, a menagerie of crooked cans and the occasional crumpled brown fast food wrapper lay in abandonment, clearly forgotten by their owners in moments of hedonistic fits.
As I passed yet another row of shops, the first cars began to speed past me, one an apple green Volkswagen Bettle and the other the ubiquitous Holden Commodore; as well as the first pair of joggers, both wearing their matching black beanie caps and having their pink iPods strapped to their arms.
I halted as the empty Trade Hall with their outdated 'Fill the G' posters stuck to dusty windows greeted me. It is the last building of the Street. I glanced at my watch, and looked at the street ahead. Just thrity minutes to go before the Mother's Day race. I inhaled deeply and took off towards the Yarra River, leaving the towering blocks of the city centre nothing but a blurry memory, a clear contrast to the vivid picture of Lygon Street.
End of essay. Hope you all can feel it ^-^.
By the way, I would like to announce that today is the official start day of my self-proclaimed revision period. I am proud to say that I had been sitting here at my study table for most of the last 8 hours.
As you know this process of studying can be tedious and boring, I conceived some trivia questions for you in case you are also suffering from the same syndrome. Have fun answering them:
1. What is a more general term for Papanikolaou Test?
2. What is Spiderman Peter Parker's middle name?
3. What does 65 roses stand for?
Seems that nowadays taking photographs are becoming the preferred method of capturing memories instead of penmanship. To revive this ancient but romantic technique of chronicling nostalgic moments, I hereby proudly present to you:
Lygon Street on a Sunday Morning.
The cold morning mist lingers in the air like the smell of my warm bed as I journeyed down Lygon Street on a lazy Sunday morning.
By and large the first block of the street was deserted, with early morning newspapers rustling in the breeze the predominant activity and the soft crisp crunching of brown maple as they passed under my red Nike the prevalent sound. Naked mannequins stared aimlessly into space from the insides of shop windows, as if longing for a ride in one of the lonely cars parked outside along the street.
As I passed another block of rustic Italian eateries and quaint shops, sights of life begin to sprout. There was this bald young man in blue overalls, his pale complexion perfectly juxaposed by his muscled build, furiously applying a fresh coat of whitewash to a tired looking facade.
Then there was also this cigarette smoking mustachioed Greek street sweeper with pincers in hand, fighting for pieces of forgotten sandwiches with an army of pigeons. A fierce intensity hallmarked his persona, as he concentrate every bit of his sinew towards winning this lopsided duel.
Besides the sandwiches, other evidences of last night's merriment loitered in the street. Assortments of green beer bottles, a menagerie of crooked cans and the occasional crumpled brown fast food wrapper lay in abandonment, clearly forgotten by their owners in moments of hedonistic fits.
As I passed yet another row of shops, the first cars began to speed past me, one an apple green Volkswagen Bettle and the other the ubiquitous Holden Commodore; as well as the first pair of joggers, both wearing their matching black beanie caps and having their pink iPods strapped to their arms.
I halted as the empty Trade Hall with their outdated 'Fill the G' posters stuck to dusty windows greeted me. It is the last building of the Street. I glanced at my watch, and looked at the street ahead. Just thrity minutes to go before the Mother's Day race. I inhaled deeply and took off towards the Yarra River, leaving the towering blocks of the city centre nothing but a blurry memory, a clear contrast to the vivid picture of Lygon Street.
End of essay. Hope you all can feel it ^-^.
By the way, I would like to announce that today is the official start day of my self-proclaimed revision period. I am proud to say that I had been sitting here at my study table for most of the last 8 hours.
As you know this process of studying can be tedious and boring, I conceived some trivia questions for you in case you are also suffering from the same syndrome. Have fun answering them:
1. What is a more general term for Papanikolaou Test?
2. What is Spiderman Peter Parker's middle name?
3. What does 65 roses stand for?
8 comments:
1. Papa 你古老 test? :P
2. Peter.
3. I'm not as rich as that guy who gave you 999 roses, but hey, I'm still quite rich larr
Anyway it's a very well-written reflection.. Haha now I know why I got such a low score last time... I will "try" to write a reflection when I am free next time. :)
honestly, i think that bit of writing sounds a bit 'forced'
hmm.
Your nickname tells me that you are dota-ing and ask me to read your blog.. >.<"
Woon Pang
my english... your english... 2 different kind of english >.<
no wonder jpa sent me to germany to study german language. lol
1. what is papanikolou? IQ180 question?
2. Peter.
3. 65 roses is i really don't know the meaning behind it.
==!!
Hi! good and creative efforts to answer, but this test is serious one eh, really got serious answer!
WoonPang:haha..yeah I want to promote my blog ^^
JianWei: 'Forced'in what sense? the general tone or it is too structured?
Haha you want real answers, you get it:
1. Pap smear (but papa 你古老 is how I remember the full name :P)
2. Benjamin
3. Cystic Fibrosis
By the way I only knew no. 1 off my head and I googled the other two. No. 3 is special...
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